diff options
Diffstat (limited to '19393-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 19393-h/19393-h.htm | 5223 |
1 files changed, 5223 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/19393-h/19393-h.htm b/19393-h/19393-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b0fcbe --- /dev/null +++ b/19393-h/19393-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5223 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Plays Of Near & Far, by Lord Dunsany. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: 25%; + margin-right: 25%; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .dialogue {text-indent: -3em;} + + .dialogue-cont {} + + .stagedir {margin-left: 10%;} + + .list {margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Plays of Near & Far, by Lord Dunsany + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Plays of Near & Far + +Author: Lord Dunsany + +Release Date: September 27, 2006 [EBook #19393] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYS OF NEAR & FAR *** + + + + +Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>Plays of Near & Far</h1> + +<h3><i>By</i></h3> + +<h2>LORD DUNSANY</h2> + + +<p class="center">G. P. Putnam's Sons</p> +<p class="center">London & New York</p> + +<p class="center">MADE IN GREAT BRITAIN</p> + +<p class="center"><i>First printed December, 1922</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Limited Edition: Five Hundred Copies only</i></p> + + +<p class="center"><i>Printed by the</i><br /> +BOTOLPH PRINTING WORKS<br /> +GATE ST., KINGSWAY, W.C.2</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="By_LORD_DUNSANY" id="By_LORD_DUNSANY"></a><i>By</i> LORD DUNSANY</h3> + +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">The Gods of Pegana</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Time and the Gods</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Sword of Welleran</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">A Dreamer's Tales</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Book of Wonder</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Five Plays</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Fifty-one Tales</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Tales of Wonder</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Plays of Gods and Men</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Tales of War</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Unhappy Far-off Things</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Tales of Three Hemispheres</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">If</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Chronicles of Rodriguez</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE</h3> + + +<p>Believing plays to be solely for the stage, I have never before allowed +any of mine to be printed until they had first faced from a stage the +judgment of an audience, to see if they were entitled to be called plays +at all. A successful production also has been sometimes a moral support +to me when some critic has said, as for instance of "A Night at an Inn," +that though it reads passably it could never act.</p> + +<p>But in this book I have made an exception to this good rule (as it seems +to me), and that exception is "The Flight of the Queen." I know too +little of managers and theatres to know what to do with it, and have a +feeling that it will be long before it is ever acted, and am too fond of +this play to leave it in obscurity. This beautiful story has been lying +about the world for countless centuries, without ever having been +dramatized. It is the story of a royal court, which I have merely +adapted to the stage. The date that I have given is accurate; it +happened in June; and happens every June; perhaps in some corner of the +reader's garden. It is the story of the bees.</p> + +<p>As for "The Compromise of the King of the Golden Isles," it is just the +sort of play through which those that hunt for allegories might hunt +merrily, unless I mention that there are no allegories in any of my +plays.</p> + +<p>An allegory I take to be a dig at something local and limited, such as +politics, while outwardly appearing to tell of things on some higher +plane. But, far from being the <i>chef d'œuvre</i> of some ponderously +profound thinker, I look on the allegory, if I have rightly defined it, +as being the one form of art that is narrowly limited in its application +to life. When the man whose cause it championed has been elected +alderman, when the esplanade has been widened, or the town better +lighted or drained, the allegory's work must necessarily be over; but +the truth of all other works of art is manifold and should be eternal.</p> + +<p>Though there is no such land as the Golden Isles and was never any such +king as Hamaran, yet all that we write with sincerity is true, for we +can reflect nothing that we have not seen, and this we interpret with +our idiosyncracies when we attempt any form of art.</p> + +<p>I set some store by the way in which the three lines about Zarabardes +are recited, though it is hard to explain in writing a matter of rhythm. +But the heartlessness of it can be indicated by a clear pronunciation of +the syllables, as though the people that utter these words had long been +drilled in a formula.</p> + +<p>The third play, "Cheezo," tells of one of those rare occasions when it +is permissible for an artist, and may be a duty, to leave his wider art +in order to attack a definite evil. And the invention of "great new +foods" is often a huge evil.</p> + +<p>"Cheezo" is a play of Right and Wrong, and Wrong triumphs. Were not this +particular Wrong triumphing at this particular date I should not have +thought it a duty to attack it, and were it easily defeated it would not +have been worth attacking.</p> + +<p>I have seen it acted with a Stage Curate, rather weak and a little +comic; obviously such a man could be no match for Sladder. Hippanthigh +should be of stronger stuff than that: he is defeated because that +particular evil is, as I have said, defeating its enemies at present. +Nor could there be any drama in a contest between the brutal Sladder and +a Stage Curate; for the spark that we call humour, by whose light we see +much of life, comes as it were of two flints, and not of a flint and +cheese.</p> + +<p>The three little plays that follow I will leave to speak for themselves, +as ultimately all plays have to do.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;">DUNSANY</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h3> + +<p><a href="#THE_COMPROMISE_OF_THE_KING_OF_THE_GOLDEN_ISLES"><span class="smcap">The Compromise of the King of the Golden Isles</span></a> <span style="visibility: hidden;">1</span></p> +<p><a href="#THE_FLIGHT_OF_THE_QUEEN"><span class="smcap">The Flight of the Queen</span></a> <span style="visibility: hidden;">21</span></p> +<p><a href="#CHEEZO"><span class="smcap">Cheezo</span></a> <span style="visibility: hidden;">65</span></p> +<p><a href="#A_GOOD_BARGAIN"><span class="smcap">A Good Bargain</span></a> <span style="visibility: hidden;">103</span></p> +<p><a href="#IF_SHAKESPEARE_LIVED_TO-DAY"><span class="smcap">If Shakespeare Lived To-day</span></a> <span style="visibility: hidden;">117</span></p> +<p><a href="#FAME_AND_THE_POET"><span class="smcap">Fame and the Poet</span></a> <span style="visibility: hidden;">135</span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_COMPROMISE_OF_THE_KING_OF_THE_GOLDEN_ISLES" id="THE_COMPROMISE_OF_THE_KING_OF_THE_GOLDEN_ISLES"></a>THE COMPROMISE OF THE KING OF THE GOLDEN ISLES</h2> + +<h3><i>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</i></h3> + +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">The King of the Golden Isles: King Hamaran</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The King's Politician</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Ambassador of the Emperor</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Emperor's Seeker</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Two Priests of the Order of the Sun</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The King's Questioners</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Ambassador's Nubian</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Herald of the Ambassador</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Emperor's Dwarf</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Deputy Cup-Bearer</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The King's Doom-Bearer</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">The King's Politician</span>: A man has fled from the Emperor, and has taken +refuge in your Majesty's Court in that part of it called holy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">The King</span>: We must give him up to the Emperor.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: To-day a spearsman came running from Eng-Bathai seeking the +man who fled. He carries the barbed spear of one of the Emperor's +seekers.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: We must give him up.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: Moreover he has an edict from the Emperor demanding that the +head of the man who fled be sent back to Eng-Bathai.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Let it be sent.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: Yet your Majesty is no vassal of the Emperor, who dwells at +Eng-Bathai.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: We may not disobey the Imperial edict.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: Yet——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: None hath dared to do it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: It is so long since any dared to do it that the Emperor +mocks at kings. If your Majesty disobeyed him the Emperor would +tremble.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Ah.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: The Emperor would say, "There is a great king. He defies +me." And he would tremble strangely.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Yet—if——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: The Emperor would fear you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: I would fain be a great king—yet——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: You would win honour in his eyes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Yet is the Emperor terrible in his wrath. He was terrible in his +wrath in the olden time.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: The Emperor is old.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: This is a great affront that he places upon a king, to demand a +man who has come to sanctuary in that part of my Court called holy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: It is a great affront.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Seeker</span>. <i>He abases himself.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Seeker</span>: O King, I have come with my spear, seeking for one that fled the +Emperor and has found sanctuary in your Court in that part called holy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: It has not been the wont of the kings of my line to turn men from +our sanctuary.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Seeker</span>: It is the Emperor's will.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: It is not <i>my</i> will.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Seeker</span>: Behold the Emperor's edict.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">King</span> <i>takes it. The</i> <span class="smcap">Seeker</span> <i>goes towards the door.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Seeker</span>: I go to sit with my spear by the door of the place called holy.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Seeker</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: The edict, the edict. We must obey the edict.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: The Emperor is old.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: True, we will defy him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: He will do nothing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: And yet the edict.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: It is of no importance.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Hark. I will not disobey the Emperor. Yet will I not permit him to +abuse the sanctuary of my Court. We will banish the man who fled from +Eng-Bathai. [<i>To his</i> <span class="smcap">Doom-Bearer</span>.] Hither, the Doom-Bearer; take the +black ivory spear, the wand of banishment, that lies on the left of my +throne, and point it at the man that shelters in the holy place of my +Court. Then show him the privy door behind the horns of the altar, so +that he go safely hence and meet not the Emperor's seeker.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Doom-Bearer</span> <i>bows and takes the spear on the flat of both his +hands. The shaft is all black, but the head is of white ivory. It is +blunt and clearly ceremonial. Exit.</i>]</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Politician</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Thus we shall be safe from the wrath of the Emperor, and the holy place +of my Court will not be violate.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: Had your Majesty scorned the Emperor it were better. He is +old and durst not take vengeance.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: I have decided, and the man is banished.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>A</i> <span class="smcap">Herald</span> <i>marches in and blows his trumpet.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Herald</span>: The Ambassador of the Emperor.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>. <i>He bows to the King from his place near the +door.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: For what purpose to my Court from Eng-Bathai comes thus the +Ambassador of the Emperor?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: I bring to the King's Majesty a gift from the great Emperor, +[<span class="smcap">Ambassador</span> <i>and his men bow</i>] who reigns in Eng-Bathai, the reward of +obedience to his edict, a goblet of inestimable wine.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He signs and there enters a page bearing a goblet of glass. He has a +pretty complexion and yellow hair falling as low as his chin and curling +inwards. He wears a cerise belt round his tunic exactly matching the +wine in the goblet he carries.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">He prays you drink it, and to know that it was made by vintners whose +skill is lost, and stored in secret cellars over a hundred years; and +that the vineyards whence it came have been long since whelmed by war, +and only live now in legend and this wine.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: A gift, you say, for obedience.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: A gift from the old wine-gardens of the sun.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: How knew the Emperor that I had thus obeyed him?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: It has not been men's wont to disobey the Emperor.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Yet if I have sheltered this man in the holy place of my Court?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: If that be so the Emperor bids you drink out of this golden +goblet. [<i>He signs and it is brought on by a bent and ugly dwarf</i>] and +wishes you farewell.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Farewell, you say?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: Farewell.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: What have you in the goblet?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: It is no common poison, but a thing so strange and deadly +that the serpents of Lebutharna go in fear of it. Yea travellers there +hold high a goblet of this poison, at arm's length as they go. The +serpents hide their heads for fear of it. Even so the travellers pass +the desert safely, and come to Eng-Bathai.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: I have not sheltered this man.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: There is no need then for this Imperial gift.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He throws the liquid out of the goblet through the doorway on to the +marble. A great steam goes up.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Neither have I ordered that his head be sent back to Eng-Bathai.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: Alas, for so rare a wine.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He pours it away.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: I have banished him and he is safe. I have neither obeyed nor +disobeyed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: The Emperor therefore bids you choose the gift that he +honours himself by sending to your Court.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He signs. Enter a massive</i> <span class="smcap">Nubian</span> <i>with two cups.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">The Emperor bids you drink one of these cups.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The huge</i> <span class="smcap">Nubian</span> <i>moves up close to the</i> <span class="smcap">King</span> <i>holding up the two cups +on a tray.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Politician</span> <i>slinks off. Exit L.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: The cups are strangely alike.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: Only one craftsman in the City of Smiths ever discerned a +difference. The Emperor killed him, and now no one knows.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: The potions also are alike.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: Strangely alike. [<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">King</span> <i>hesitates.</i>] The Emperor bids +you choose his gift and drink.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: The Emperor has poisoned the cups!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: You greatly wrong the Emperor. Only one cup is poisoned.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: You say that one is poisoned?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: Only one, O King! Who may say which?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: And what if I refuse to do this thing?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: There are tortures that the Emperor never names. They are +not spoken of where the Emperor is. Yet the Emperor makes a sign and +they are accomplished. He makes the sign with a certain one of his +fingers.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span> (<i>half to himself</i>): How wonderfully they have the look of wine.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: One is a wine scarcely less rare, scarcely less jubilant in +the wits of man, than that which alas is lost.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He glances towards the spot where he threw the other.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: And the other?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: Who may say? It is the most treasured secret that the +Emperor's poisoners guard.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: I will send for my butlers that are wise in wine and they shall +smell the cups.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: Alas, but the Emperor's poisoners have added so wine-like a +flavour to their most secret draught, that no man may tell by this means +which is their work and which that inestimable wine.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: I will send for my tasters and they shall taste of the cups.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: Alas, so great a risk may not be run.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Risks are the duty of a king's tasters.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: If they chanced to taste of the treasure of the Emperor's +poisoners—well. But if they, or <i>any</i> man of common birth, were to +taste of the wine that the Emperor sends only to kings, and even to +kings but rarely, that were an affront to the Emperor's ancient wine +that could not be permitted.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: It is surely permitted that I send for my priests, who tell by +divination, having burnt strange herbs to the gods that guard the Golden +Isles.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: It is permitted.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Send for the priests.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span> (<i>mainly to himself</i>): They shall discern. The priests shall make +for me this dreadful choice. They shall burn herbs and discern it. (<i>To</i> +<span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>.) My priests are very subtle. They worship the gods that +guard the Golden Isles.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: The Emperor has other gods.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter L. two priests of the Order of the Sun. Two acolytes follow. One +carries a tripod and the other a gong.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The priests abase themselves and the acolytes bow. The</i> <span class="smcap">Ambassador</span> +<i>stands with almost Mongolian calm by the door from which he has not +moved since he entered.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The impassive</i> <span class="smcap">Nubian</span> <i>stands motionless near the</i> <span class="smcap">King</span>, <i>holding up +the cups on a tray.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: The Emperor has honoured me with these two cups of wine that I may +drink one of them to the grandeur of his throne. I bid you importune the +gods that they may surely tell me which it were well to drink.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Priest</span>: We will importune the gods with the savour of rarest +spices. We will send up to them the odour of herbs they love. We will +commune with them in silence and they shall answer our thoughts, when +they snuff the savour of the smoke of the burning on the tripod that is +sacred to the Sun.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The calm of the</i> <span class="smcap">Ambassador</span> <i>and the impassivity of the</i> <span class="smcap">Nubian</span> <i>grow +ominous. The two priests hang over the tripod. They cast herbs upon it. +They pass their hands over it. The herbs begin to smoulder. A smoke +goes up. The priests bend over the smoke. Presently they step back from +it.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Priest</span>: The gods sleep.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: They sleep! The gods that guard the Golden Isles?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Priest</span>: The gods sleep.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Importune them as never before. I will make sacrifice of many +sheep. I will give emeralds to the Monks of the Sun.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The second acolyte moves nearer to the tripod and beats listlessly on +his great gong at about the pace of a great clock striking slowly.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Priest</span>: We will importune the gods as never before.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>They heap up more herbs and spices. The smoke grows thicker and +thicker. It streams upwards. They hover about it as before. At a sign +the gong ceases.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">The gods have spoken.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: What is their message?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Priest</span>: Drink of the cup upon the Nubian's left.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Ah. My gods defend me.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He seizes the cup boldly. He looks straight at the</i> <span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>, <i>whose +face remains expressionless, merely watching. He lifts the cup upon the +Nubian's left a little up from the tray.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He glances towards the priests.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Suddenly he starts. He has seen a strange expression upon the face of +the priest. He puts the cup down. He strides a step nearer and looks at +his face.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">PRIEST!—Priest!—-- What is that look in your eyes?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Priest</span>: O King, I know not. I have given the message of the gods.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">King</span> <i>continues to search out his face.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: I mistrust it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Priest</span>: It is the message of the gods.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: I will drink of the other cup!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">King</span> <i>steps back to his place in the front of his throne where +the Nubian stands beside him. He takes the cup upon the Nubian's right. +He gazes at the priest. He looks round at the Ambassador, but sees +nothing in that watchful, expressionless face.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He glances sidelong at the priest, then drinks, draining the cup at +some length. He puts it down in silence. The face of the Ambassador and +the whole bulk of the Nubian remain motionless.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: An inestimable wine!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: It is the Emperor's joy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Send for my Questioners.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>There are weird whistles. Two dark men run on in loin clothes.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Ask these two priests the Seven Questions.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Questioners</span> <i>run nimbly up to the two priests and lead them away +by the arm.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">The Two Acolytes</span>: O, O, O. Oh, oh.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>They show extreme horror. The</i> <span class="smcap">Ambassador</span> <i>bows to the King.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: You do not leave us at once?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>: I go back to the Emperor, whom it is happiness to obey, and +length of days.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He bows and walks away. The</i> <span class="smcap">Herald</span> <i>marches out, then the</i> +<span class="smcap">Ambassador</span>; <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Page</span>, <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Dwarf</span> <i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Nubian</span> <i>follow.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Herald</span> <i>is heard blowing upon his trumpet the same notes as when +he entered, one merry bar of music.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The tray and two precious cups, one empty and the other full, are left +glittering near the</i> <span class="smcap">King</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span> (<i>looking at cups</i>): Those are rare emeralds that glisten there! +Yet an evil gift. (<i>To the moaning acolytes.</i>) Be silent! Your priests +sinned strangely.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The acolytes continue to moan.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter one of the</i> <span class="smcap">Questioners</span>. <i>He has sweat on his face and his hair +has become damp and unkempt.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Questioner</span>: We have asked the Seven Questions.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Well?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Questioner</span>: They have not answered.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Not answered!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Questioner</span>: Neither man has confessed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Oho! Do I keep Questioners that bring me no answers?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Questioners</span>: We questioned them to the uttermost.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: And neither man confessed?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Questioner</span>: They would not confess.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Ask them the Supreme Question.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The acolytes break out into renewed moaning.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Questioner</span>: It shall be asked, O King.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Questioner</span>. <i>The acolytes moan on.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: They would have made me drink of a poisoned cup. I say there is +poison in that cup. Your priests would have had me drink it. (<i>The +acolytes only answer by moans.</i>) Bid them confess. Bid them confess +their crime and why it was done, and the Supreme Question shall be +spared them. (<i>The acolytes only answer by moans.</i>) Strange! They have +done strangely. (<i>To acolytes.</i>) Why has your priest spoken falsely? +(<i>The acolytes only moan.</i>) Why has he spoken falsely in the name of the +gods? (<i>The acolytes moan on.</i>) Be silent! Be silent! May I not question +whom I will? (<i>To himself</i>). They prophesied falsely in the name of the +gods.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Questioners</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Questioner</span>: The Supreme Question is asked.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The acolytes suddenly cease moaning.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Well?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Questioner</span>: They would not answer.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: They would not answer the Supreme Question?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Questioner</span>: They spoke at last, but they would not answer the +question. They would not confess.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: What said they at last?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Questioner</span>: O, the King's Majesty, they but spake idly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: What said they?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Questioner</span>: O, the King's Majesty, they said nought fitting.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: They muttered so that no man heard them clearly?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Questioner</span>: They spake. But it was not fitting.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Did they speak of small things happening long ago?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Questioner</span>: O, the King's Majesty, it was not fitting.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: What said they? Speak!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Questioner</span>: The man you gave to me, O King, said: "No man that +knew the counsels of the gods, who alone see future things, would say +the gods advised King Hamaran ill when they bade him drink out of a +poisoned cup." Then I put the question straightly and he died.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: The gods! He said it was the gods!... And the other?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Second Questioner</span>: He also said the same, O the King's Majesty.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Both said the same. They were questioned in different chambers?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">First Questioner</span>: In different chambers, O King. I questioned mine in +the Red Chamber.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Second Questioner</span>): And yours?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Second Questioner</span>: In the Chamber of Rats.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">King</span>: Begone!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Questioners</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">So ... It <i>was</i> the gods.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The acolytes are crouched upon the floor. He does not notice them +since they ceased to moan.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">The gods! With what dark and dreadful thing have they clouded the +future?</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Well, I will face it! But what is it? Is it one of those things a strong +man can bear? Or is it——?</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">The future is more terrible than the grave, that has its one secret +only.</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">No man, he said, could say that the gods had advised me ill when they +bade me drink out of a poisoned cup.</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">What have the gods seen? What dreadful work have they overlooked where +Destiny sits alone, making evil years? The gods, he said, who alone see +future things.</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Yes, I have known men who never were warned by the gods, and did not +drink poison, and came upon evil days, suddenly like a ship upon rocks +no mariner knows. Yes, poison to some of <i>them</i> would have been very +precious.</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">The gods have warned me and I have not hearkened, and must go on alone: +must enter that strange country of the future whose paths are so dark to +man ... to meet a doom there that the gods have seen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">The gods have seen it! How shall I thwart the gods? How fight against +the shapers of the hills?</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Would that I had been warned. Would I had heeded when they bade me drink +of the cup the Ambassador said was poisoned.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Far off is heard that merry bar of music blown by the</i> <span class="smcap">Ambassador's +Herald</span> <i>on his horn.</i>]</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont"><i>Is it too late?</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">There it stands yet with its green emeralds winking.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He clutches it and looks down into it.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">How like to wine it is, which is full of dreams. It is silent and dreamy +like the gods, whose dreams we are.</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Only a moment in their deathless minds: then the dream passes.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He lifts up his arm and drinks it seated upon his throne with his head +back and the great cup before his face. The audience begin to wonder +when he will put it down. Still he remains in the attitude of a drinker. +The acolytes begin to peer eagerly. Still he remains upright with the +great cup to his lips. The acolytes patter away and the</i> <span class="smcap">King</span> <i>is left +alone.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">King's Politician</span> <i>hurriedly.</i> <i>He goes up to the</i> <span class="smcap">King</span> +<i>and seizes his right arm and tries to drag the cup away from his lips, +but the</i> <span class="smcap">King</span> <i>is rigid and his arm cannot be moved. He steps back +lifting up his hands.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Politician</span>: Oh-h!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exit. You hear him announcing solemnly</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">King Hamaran ... is dead!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>A murmur is heard of men, at first mournful. It grows louder and +louder and then breaks into these clear words.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Zarabardes is King! Zarabardes is King! Rejoice! Rejoice! Zarabardes is +King! Zarabardes! Zarabardes! Zarabardes!</p> + +<h4>CURTAIN.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_FLIGHT_OF_THE_QUEEN" id="THE_FLIGHT_OF_THE_QUEEN"></a>THE FLIGHT OF THE QUEEN</h2> + +<h3><i>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</i></h3> + +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">The Prince of Zoon</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Prince Meliflor</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Queen Zoomzoomarma</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Lady Oozizi</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>, <i>a Common Soldier.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">The Glory of Ximenung</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Overlord of Moomoomon</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Prince Huz</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Scene I</span></h3> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Time: June.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Scene: In the Palace of Zoorm; the Hall of the Hundred Princes.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>The Princes sit at plain oaken tables with pewter mugs before them. +They wear bright grass-green cloaks of silk; they might wear circlets of +narrow silver with one large hyacinth petal rising from it at intervals +of an inch.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>, <i>a Common Soldier, huge and squat, with brown skin and dense +black beard, stands just inside the doorway, holding a pike, guarding +the golden treasure.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>The golden treasure lies in a heap three or four feet high near the +right back corner.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><span class="smcap">Sentries</span>, <i>also brown-skinned and bearded, carrying pikes, pass and +repass outside the great doorway.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">The Glory of Ximenung</span>: Heigho, Moomoomon.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">The Overlord of Moomoomon</span>: Heigho, Glory of Ximenung.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: Weary?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Aye, weary.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Another</span>: Heigho.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prince Meliflor</span> (<i>sympathetically</i>): What wearies you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: The idle hours and the idle days. Heigho.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Others</span>: Heigho.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Speak not against the idle hours, Moomoomon.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Why then, lord of the sweet lands?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Because in idleness are all things, all things good.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: Heigho, I am weary of the idle hours.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: You would work then?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: No-o. That is not our destiny.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Let us be well contented with our lot. The idle hours are our +sacred treasure.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: Yes, I am well contented, and yet ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span> (<i>contemplatively</i>): And yet ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: I sometimes dream that were it not for our glorious state, and +this tradition of exalted ease, it might, it might be pleasant ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: To toil, to labour, to raid the golden hoards.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: Yes, Moomoomon.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Never! Never!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Others</span>: No. No. No.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Another</span>: And yet ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: No, never. We should lose our glorious ease, the heritage that +none may question.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: What heritage is that, Prince Meliflor?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: It is all the earth. To labour is to lose it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: If we could toil we should gain some spot of earth that our +labour would seem to make our own. How happily the workers come home at +evening.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: It would be to lose all.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prince of Zoon</span>: How lose it, Meliflor?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: To us alone the idle hours are given. The sky, the fields, the +woods, the summer winds are for us alone. All others put the earth to +uses. This or that field has this or that use; here one may go and +another may not. They have each their bit of earth and become slaves to +its purpose. But for us, ah! for us, is all; the gift of the idle hours.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Some</span>: Hurrah! Hurrah for the idle hours.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Heigho. The idle hours weary me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: They give us all the earth and sky to contemplate. Both are +for us.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: True. Let us drink, and speak of the blue sky.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span> (<i>lifting mug</i>): And all our glorious heritage.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span> (<i>putting hand to mug</i>): Aye, it is glorious, and yet ...</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Raiders</span> <i>of the Golden Hoard with spears and, in the other +hand, leather wallets the size of your fist; these they cast on the +heap. Nuggets the size of big filberts escape from some so that the heap +is partly leather and partly gold. These wallets should be filled with +nuggets of lead, about the size described, not one lump of lead and not +sawdust or rags. Nothing destroys illusion on the stage more than a +cannon ball falling with a soft pat. They look scowlingly at the +Princes.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exeunt the</i> <span class="smcap">Raiders</span>. <i>The Princes have scarcely noticed them.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: See how they waste the hours.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: They have brought treasure from the Golden Hoard.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, from the Golden Hoard beyond the marshes. I went there once +with old brown Oomuz there.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Of what avail is it to come back burdened thus? Has not the +Queen more wealth than she'll ever need?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Aye, the Queen needs nothing more.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: How can we know that?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Momoomon</span>: Why not?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: The Queen obeys old impulses. Her sires are dead. Who knows whence +those impulses come? How can we say what they are?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: She cannot need more wealth than what is here.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: No, no, she cannot.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: She needs more, for she has bidden them go again to the Golden +Hoards. Her impulses have demanded it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Then there is no reason in her impulses.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: They do not come from reason.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: So I said.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: They come from Fate.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: From Fate!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>There is a hush at this.</i> <span class="smcap">Oomuz</span> <i>comes nearer and kneels down.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: Oh, Masters, Masters. If there be anything greater, greater than +the Queen, speak not of it, Masters, speak not its name.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: No, Oomuz. We need nothing greater.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: The name frightened me, Mighty Highness.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, yes, Oomuz; there is only the Queen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: No, there is nothing greater than the Queen, and she has no +need of anything more than the treasure that he guards there.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: There is one thing more.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: More? What is that?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: There is one thing more. The Queen needs one thing more. This has +been told us and we know.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: What is it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: How should we know that? None knows the need of the Queen.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Oomuz</span> <i>returns to guard his heap.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: What think you, Oomuz? What think you is this need of the Queen?</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Oomuz</span> <i>shakes his head about three times.</i> <span class="smcap">Prince of Zoon</span> <i>sighs.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Several Princes</span> (<i>together wearily</i>): Heigho.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Melifor</span>: Take comfort in our heritage, illustrious comrades. Come! We +will drink to the sun.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Some</span>: To the sun! To the sun! (<i>They drink.</i>)</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: To the golden idle hours! (<i>He drinks.</i>) Let us be worthy, +glorious companions, of our exalted calling. Let us enjoy the days of +idleness. Sing to us, mighty one of Zoon, as the idle hours go by. Sing +us a song.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span> (<i>idly</i>): Yes, sing to us.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: As you all know, I can but hum. But I will hum you a song that I +heard yesterday; very strange it was; sung in the meadows by two that +were not of our people; sung in the evening. I heard it as I loitered +home from the meadows beyond the marshes. There is no ease in the song, +and yet ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Hum it to us.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: They sang it together, the two that were not of our people.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He hums a song. They all lift up their heads from their listlessness.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span> (<i>wonderingly</i>): That is a song that is new.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, it is new to me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: It is like an old song.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, perhaps it is old.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: What is the song?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It tells of love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">The Princes</span>: Ah-h!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>They seem to wake as though young and strong out of sleep. There is a +great commotion among them. The sentries outside are utterly unmoved.</i> +<span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>, <i>without sharing any of the excitement of the Princes, now nods +his head solemnly as he had once shaken it.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Love! It must have been that that I felt that day in the +twilight as I came back round the peak of Zing-gee Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: You felt it, Moomoomon? Tell us.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: All the air seemed gold, seemed gold of a sudden. Through it +I saw fair fields, glittering green far down, glimpsed between clumps of +the heather. The gold was all about them, yet they shone with their own +fair colours. Ah, how can I tell you all I saw? My feet seemed scarce to +touch the slope of the mountain; I too seemed one with the golden air in +which all things were shining.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: And this was Love?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: I know not. It was some strange new thing. It was strange and +new like this song.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Perhaps, it was some other strange new thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Perhaps. I know not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: No. It was Love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: And then that evening in the golden light I knew the purpose +of Earth and why all things are.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: What is the purpose, Moomoomon?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: I know not. I was content. I troubled not to remember.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It was love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: Let us love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Others</span>: Aye.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: Aye, that is best of all.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: No, Princes. The best is idleness. Out of the idle hours all +good things come.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: I will love. That is best.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: It is like all things, the gift of the idle hours. The workers +never love. Their fancies are fastened to the work they do, and do not +roam towards love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">All</span>: Love! Let us love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: We will love in idleness and praise the idle hours.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: Whom will you love, lord of the shimmering fields?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: I have but to show myself loitering by lanes in the evening.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: I too will be there.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: And when they see me ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: They will see me too ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span> (<i>rising</i>): Behold me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: So I do.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Will they look towards you when this is there?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: Are birch-trees seen at dawn fairer than I?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Behold me; not a poplar is straighter, not a flower is +fairer. I will loiter along the lanes at evening.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He draws his sword.</i> <span class="smcap">Ximenung</span> <i>does the same.</i> <span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span> <i>draws his +too and places it between them.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Be at peace. <i>I</i> will go to the lanes, and there need be no +quarrel between you, for <i>I</i>....</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Others</span>: No, no, no....</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: We will all go.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Another</span>: We will all love. Hurrah for love.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>They have all risen. They wave their swords on high, not threatening +each other. Zoon alone has not risen.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Zoon</span>): You do not speak, Prince of Zoon. Will you not +love along the idle hours?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, yes. I love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Come then to the lanes to loiter. It draws towards evening. +Let us all come to the lanes, where the honeysuckle is hanging.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I love not in the lanes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Not in the lanes? Then...!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Others</span>: Not in the lanes?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I love her than whom there is no greater on earth—(<i>Some</i> +<span class="smcap">Princes</span>: Ah!) unless it be that name that frightens Oomuz.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: He loves the...!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: The ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: The Queen!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Oomuz</span> <i>nods his head again.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: The Queen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: If the Queen knew such a thing she would flee from the +palace.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I would pursue.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: She would go by Aether Mountain, where her mother went once +before her.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I would follow.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: We would all follow.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: I would follow too. I would dance after her down the little +street: the bright heels of my shoes would twinkle: my cloak would float +out behind me: I would pursue her and call her name, beyond the street +and over the moor as far as Aether Mountain: but I would not come up +with her: that would be <i>too</i> daring.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Love is not a toy, Prince Meliflor. Love is no less than a mood of +Destiny.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Pooh! We must enjoy the idle hours that are for us alone.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: There will be no idle hours on Aether Mountain, following from +crag to crag; if it be true that she would go that way.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: It is true. They know it. They say her mother went that way +before. It is one of the royal impulses.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Oomuz, did the mother of the Queen go once up Aether Mountain?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: Aye, and <i>her</i> mother.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It is true.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: You are sure of this?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: We know it. It has been said.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: We will all follow her up Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: We will follow merrily.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: If we did this what would they do when we returned?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Who?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: They.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: They? They would not dare to speak to <i>us</i>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: Who knows what they would dare if we dared go after the Queen?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: They would dare nothing, knowing whence we come.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: They care not whence we come.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: But they care for the event that is in our hands. They dare +never touch us because of the event.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: We are the heirs of the idle hours. For them is work. Surely +they dare not leave their work to touch us.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: They care only for the event. Because it is prophesied that +we are needed for the event we are sacred. Were it not for the event, +why ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Were it not for the event we might not dare to do it; but, +being sacred, let us enjoy our idle hours.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: What if the event should one day befall?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: It was prophesied long ago and has not come. It will not come +for a long time.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: No, not for a long time.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>A sentry passes.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: So we will follow the Queen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: Yes, we will follow.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: We shall be a merry company.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Splendid to see.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I would follow though I were not guarded for the event. Though the +event should befall and we be immune no longer, still I should dare it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: I would dare it if I knew what they would do. But knowing +not ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: What matter? We are guarded by the event.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I say I care not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Let us drum with our heels and beat with our scabbards against +the benches so that we frighten the Queen. She will run from the palace +then, and we will go after her with all our merry company.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Yes, let us drum all together. I will give the word. All +together and she will run from the palace. We will go after and our +cloaks will stream behind us.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: Brave! And our scabbards will show bright beneath them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: No, I will give the word. When she flees from the palace I +will follow her first. Crowd not about my cloak as it streams in the +wind. We must throw up our heels as we run to make our shoes twinkle. We +must show gaily in the little street. Afterwards we can run more easily.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: Aye, in the street we must run beautifully.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: I think that I should give the word when we rattle our +scabbards and all drum with our heels; but I waive the point. But I do +not think that the Queen can run far. She has never left the palace. How +could she run over the moor as far as Aether Mountain. She will faint at +the end of the street and we shall come up with her and bow and offer +her our assistance.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Good, good. It would be cold and rocky on Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: The Queen could never go there over the moor.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: No, she is too dainty.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: They say she could.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: They; what do they know? Common workers. What should they +know of queens?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: They have the old prophesies that came over the fields from +the dawn.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Yet they cannot understand the Queen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: They say her mother went there.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: That was long ago. Women are quite different now.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: Well, give the word.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Nay. You shall give the word, Moomoomon. When you raise your +hand we will all drum with our heels together and rattle our scabbards +together, and frighten the Queen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: I honour your courtesy, lord of the deep meadows.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: We are ready then. When you raise your hand——</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>A gust of laughter is heard off, from a far part of the palace.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Hark! Hark!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: It is the Queen! She laughed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: Could she have guessed...?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: I trust not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: She—she—cannot have been thinking of <i>us</i>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: She—she—seldom laughs.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: What can it be?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Perhaps it was nothing and yet ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Yet it makes me uneasy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: It is not that I fear, but, when a queen laughs—it makes a +feeling in the palace—as though all were not well.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: It makes one have forebodings. One cannot help it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Perhaps; perhaps later we could return to our gallant scheme; +for the present I think I'll hide a while.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Yes, let us hide.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: So that if there be anything wrong in the palace it will not +find us.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Huz</span>: Let us hide.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exeunt all but</i> <span class="smcap">Zoon</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Zoon</span> <i>has sat always with bent head at table. He sits so, still.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span> (<i>bitterly</i>): They would follow the Queen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: Mighty Highness——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span> (<i>still to himself</i>): They will come back boasting that they dared +follow the Queen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: Mighty Highness.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, good Oomuz.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: In other times once princes followed a queen and came back +boasting. Master, the workers were angry. Be warned, Master, because you +and I went together once to the hoard beyond the marshes. Be warned. +They were angry, Master.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I care not for the workers.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: Master, be warned. It was long ago and they say they were very +angry.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I care not, Oomuz. I come not boasting back from the hills under +Aether Mountain. I shall not halt till I have told the Queen my love. I +shall wed with her who is less only than Fate, if less she be. I am not +as those, Oomuz. Who weds the Queen is more than the servant of Fate.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: Master——</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He stretches out his hands towards</i> <span class="smcap">Zoon</span> <i>imploringly.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Well, Oomuz?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: Master. There is a doom about the Queen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: What doom, Oomuz?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: We know not, Master. We are simple people and we know not that. +But we know from of old there is a doom about her. We know it, Master; +we have been told from of old.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, there could well be a doom about the Queen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: Follow not after, Master, when she goes to Aether Mountain. There +is surely a doom about her. A doom was with her mother upon that very +peak.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, Oomuz, a doom well becomes her.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: Doubt it not, Master; there is a doom about her.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Oomuz, I doubt not. For there is something wonderful about the +Queen, beyond all earthly wonders. Something like thunder beyond far +clouds or hail hurling from heaven; there should be indeed a terrible +doom about her.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: Master, I have warned you for the sake of the days when we raided +the golden hoard beyond the marshes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span> (<i>taking his hand</i>): Thank you, good Oomuz.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He goes towards door after the others.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oomuz</span>: But where go you, Master?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I wait to follow the Queen when she goes to Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exit.</i> <span class="smcap">Oomuz</span> <i>weeps silently on to the Queen's Treasure.</i></p> + +<h4>CURTAIN.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Scene_II" id="Scene_II"></a><span class="smcap">Scene II</span></h3> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i>The Palace of Zoorm: the Hall of Queen Zoomzoomarma.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Time: Same as Scene I.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">The Queen</span>: Is none worthy to kiss my hand, Oozizi; none?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lady Oozizi</span>: Lady, none.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>sighs.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">You should not sigh, great lady.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Why should I not sigh, Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Great lady, because such things as sighs pertain only to love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Love is a joy, Oozizi; love is a glow. Love makes them dance so +lightly along rays of the sunlight. It is made of sunlight and gladness. +It is like flowers in twilight. How should they sigh?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady! Great lady! Say not such things of love!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Say not such things, Oozizi? Are they not true?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: True? Yes, great lady, true. But love is a toy of the humble; +love is a common thing that the lowly use; love is ... Great lady, had +any overheard you speaking then they might have thought, they might +have madly dreamed ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Dreamed what, Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Incredible things.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span> (<i>meditatively</i>): I must not love, Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady! The common people love.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>She points to door.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Lady, the green fields going from here to the blueness, and bending +towards it, and going wandering on, and the rivers they meet and the +woods that shade the rivers, all own you for their sovereign. Lady, a +million lime-trees mellow your realm. The golden hoards are yours. Yours +are the deep fields and the iris marshes. Yours are the roads of +wandering and all ways home. The common delights of love your mere +soldiers know. Lady, you may not love.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>sighs.</i> <span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> <i>continues her knitting.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: My mother loved, Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady, for a day. For one day, mighty lady, As one might stoop in +idleness to a broken toy and pick it up and throw it again away, so she +loved for a day. That idle fancy of an afternoon tarnished no pinnacle +that shone from her exalted station. But to love for more than a +day—(<span class="smcap">Queen's</span> <i>face lights up</i>)—that were to place your high +unequalled glory below a vulgar pastime. One alone may sit in the golden +palace to reign over the green fields; but all may love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Do all love but I, Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Wondrous many, lady.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: How know you, Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: The common shouts that come up at evening, the clamour of the +lanes; they are but from love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: What is love, Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Love is a foolish thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: How know you, Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: They came tittering to me once; but I saw the foolishness of it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span> (<i>a little sadly</i>): And they came no more?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> (<i>a little sadly too</i>): No more.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Both look thoughtfully out into dreams, the</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>on her throne, +chin on hand.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Suddenly a stir is heard from the Hall of the Hundred Princes.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span> (<i>alarmed</i>): Hark! What was that?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> (<i>rises, listening anxiously</i>): It sounded ... to come from the +Hall ... of the Hundred Princes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: They were never heard here before.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady, never.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span> (<i>anxiously</i>): What can it mean?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: I know not, lady.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Sound never troubled our inner chamber before.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: All is quiet now.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Hark! (<i>They listen.</i>)</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: All is quiet.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Sound from beyond our wall, Oozizi. How it disturbs. I could not +rule over the green fields if sounds came up to me from the further +halls full of their strange thoughts. Why do sounds come to me, Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Great lady, it has never been before. It will never be again. +You must forget it, lady. You must not let it disturb your reign.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It brought strange thoughts with it, Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: All is quiet now.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: If it came again....</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady, it will not come again. It will come no more. It is quiet.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: If it came again ... Is the door open, Oozizi? Yes ... If it came +again I should almost flee from the palace.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady! Think not of leaving the golden palace!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: If it came again.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: It will not come again.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The heels of the Princes drum louder, off.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Again, Oozizi:</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> <i>pants.</i> <i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>waits, listening, in fear. Again the heels +are heard.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>runs to the small door. She looks out.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady! Lady!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady! Lady! You must never leave the palace. You must never +leave it. You must not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Hark, it is quiet now.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady, it would be terrible to leave the golden palace. Who would +reign? What would happen?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is quiet now. What would happen, Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: The world would end.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is quiet now; perhaps I need not fly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady, you must not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: And yet I would fain go over those green fields all gleaming with +summer, and see the golden hoards that no man guards, glittering with +such a light as glows this June.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: O, speak not, great lady, of the green fields and June. It is +these that have intoxicated the Princes so that they do this unrecorded +thing, letting sound of them be heard in your sacred room.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Has June intoxicated them, Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Oh, lady, speak not of June.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Is June so terrible?</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>She returns towards</i> <span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: It does strange things.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The noise breaks out again.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Hark!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>runs to the door again.</i> <span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> <i>stretches out her arms to +the</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">O, lady, never leave the golden palace.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>listens; all is silent; she looks outside.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: I see the green fields gleaming. Strange flowers are standing +among them, like princes I have not known.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Oh, lady, speak not of the bewildering fields. They are all +enchanted with Summer, and they have maddened the Princes. It is +dangerous to look at them, lady.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>gazes on over the fields.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">And yet you look.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: I would fain go far over the strange soft fields; far and far to +the high heathery lands——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady, all is quiet; there is no danger; you must not leave the +palace.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Yes, all is quiet.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>returns.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: It was a passing madness seized the Princes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Oozizi, when I hear the sound of all their feet it is dreadful, +and I must fly. And when I see the wonderful fields in the sunlight +sloping away to lands I have never known, then I long to fly away and +away for ever, passing from field to field and land to land.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady, no, no!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Yes, great lady.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: There is a mountain there that towers above the earth. It goes up +into a calm of which our world knows nothing. Heaven, like a cloak, is +draped about its shoulders. Why have none told me of this mountain, +Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> (<i>awed</i>): Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Why has none told me?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: When your glorious mother, lady, loved for a day ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Yes, Oozizi ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: She went, as all songs tell, to Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span> (<i>entranced</i>): To Aether Mountain?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: So they sing at evening, when they throw down their loads of +gold and rest.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: To Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady, Destiny sent her; but you must not go. You must not leave +your throne to go to Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: There is a calm upon it not of earth.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: You must not go, lady, you must not go.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: I will not go.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The Princes drum again, still louder with their heels.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Hark!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> <i>is frightened, The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>runs to the door.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">It is louder! They are nearer! They are coming here!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: No, lady. They would not dare!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: I must go, Oozizi; I must go.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: No, lady. They will never dare. You must not. Hark! They come no +nearer. June has maddened them, but they come no nearer. They are quiet +now. Come back, lady. Leave the door, they come no nearer. See, it is +all quiet now. They come no nearer, lady. (<span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> <i>catches her by the +sleeve.</i>) Lady, you must not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span> (<i>much calmer, gazing away</i>): Oozizi, I must go.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: No, no, lady! All is quiet; you must not go.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span> (<i>calmly</i>): It is calling for me, Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: What is calling, lady? Nothing calls.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is calling, Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Oh, lady, all is silent. No one calls.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is calling for me now, Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: No, no, lady. What calls?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Aether Mountain is calling. I know now who called my mother. It +was Aether Mountain, Oozizi; he is calling.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: I—I scarce dare look out of the golden palace, lady, to where +we must not go. Yet, yet I will look. (<i>She peers.</i>) Yes, yes, indeed; +there stands old Aether Mountain. But he does not call. Indeed he does +not call. He is all silent in Heaven.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is his voice, Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: What, lady? I hear no voice.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: That great, great silence is his voice, Oozizi. He is calling me +out of that blue waste of Heaven.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady, I cannot understand.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: He calls, Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Come away, lady. It is bad to look so long. Oh, if the Princes +had not made their clamour heard! Oh, if they had not you had not gone +to the door and seen Aether Mountain, and this trouble had not come. +Oh! Oh! Oh!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: There is no trouble upon Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Oh, lady, it is terrible that you should leave the palace.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: There is no trouble there. Aether Mountain goes all calm into +Heaven. His grey-blue slopes are calm as the sky about him. There he +stands calling. He is calling to me, Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> (<i>reflecting</i>): Can it be?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: What would you ask, Oozizi?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Can it be that it is with you, great lady, as it was with the +Queen, your mother, when Destiny sent her hence to Aether Mountain?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Aether Mountain calls.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Lady, for a moment hear me. Come with me but a little while.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>She leads the</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>slowly by the arm back to the throne.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Lady, be seated here once more and take up the orb and sceptre in your +small hands as of old.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>patiently does as she is told.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Now, if Destiny calls you, let him call to you as to a Queen. Now, if it +be for no whim of those that pass, that you would go so far from here to +that great mountain, say, seated upon your throne in the golden palace +with sceptre and orb in hand, say would you go forth, lady?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span> (<i>almost dreaming</i>): Aether Mountain calls.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> <i>bursts into tears. She helps the</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>by the arm from her +throne and leads her part of the way to the door. There she stops. The</i> +<span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>goes on to the door alone.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Farewell, lady.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>gazes out rapturously towards Aether Mountain. Then she +walks back and embraces Oozizi.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Farewell, Oozizi.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Farewell, great lady.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>turns, then suddenly she runs swiftly and nimbly through +the door and disappears.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>At once there is a murmur of voices from the Hall of the Hundred +Princes.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Voices</span> (<i>off</i>): Ah, ah, ah.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> <i>stands still weeping.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter the Princes, exquisite and frivolous. They crowd past each +other.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: And where is our little Queen?</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> <i>answers with a defiant look through her tears, which has its +effect on them.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span> (<i>foppishly</i>): There, there.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span>: Gone!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Come! Let us follow.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Shall we?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Several</span>: Yes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Come.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>They stream across from the side door R to the door in back</i>, <span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> +<i>regarding them haughtily.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span> (<i>menacingly</i>): It is Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Entranced, silent, last of all</i> <span class="smcap">Zoon</span> <i>follows. Exeunt all the Princes. +Sounds as of rough protest heard from the workers off. The grim brown +heads of two or three peer round the door by which the Princes entered. +Many come on, dumb, puzzled, turning their brown heads, searching. At +last they cluster round</i> <span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>. "Er"? <i>they say.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Oozizi</span>: Aether Mountain has called her.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>They nod dumb heads gravely.</i></p> + + +<h4>CURTAIN.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Scene_III" id="Scene_III"></a><span class="smcap">Scene III</span></h3> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i>On the base of Aether Mountain.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Right, heather sloping up to left, which is rugged with tumbled grey +rocks.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Further left all the scene is filled with the rising bulk of Aether +Mountain.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Low down, far off and small in the background to the right appears a +little palace of pure gold.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter right the</i> <span class="smcap">Queen</span> <i>running untired and nimble, unchecked by those +grey rocks.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Following her the tired</i> <span class="smcap">Princes</span> <i>come.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span> <i>is no longer last, but about fourth, and gaining.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span> <i>leads.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Meliflor</span>: Permit me, great lady. My hand over the rocks. Permit ...</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He falls and cannot rise.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Moomoomon</span>: Permit me. (<i>He falls too.</i>) These rocks; it is these rocks.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ximenung</span> (<i>going wearily</i>): Great lady. A moment. One moment, great +lady. Allow me.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>But</i> <span class="smcap">Zoon</span> <i>does not speak. Exeunt L. the Queen and those Princes that +have not fallen. The curtain falls on stragglers crossing the stage.</i></p> + + +<h4>CURTAIN.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="Scene_IV" id="Scene_IV"></a><span class="smcap">Scene IV</span></h3> + + +<p class="stagedir"><i>The Summit.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>On the snow on the pinnacle of Aether Mountain, with only bright blue +sky all round and everywhere, recline</i> <span class="smcap">Queen Zoomzoomarma</span> <i>and the</i> +<span class="smcap">Prince of Zoon</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">The Queen</span>: You had known no love before, First of a Hundred?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prince of Zoon</span>: There is no love on earth, O Queen of all.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Only here.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Pure love is only here on this peak lonely in heaven.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Would you love me elsewhere if we went from here?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: But we will never go from here.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: No, we will never leave it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Lady, look down. (<i>She looks.</i>) The earth is sorrowful. (<i>She +sighs.</i>) Cares. Cares. All over the wide surface we can see are +troubles; troubles far off and grey, that harm not Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It looks a long way off and long ago.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span> (<i>wonderingly</i>): Only to-day we came to Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Only to-day?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: We crossed a gulf of time.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It lies below us, all drowsy with years.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Lady, here is your home, this peak that has entered heaven. Let us +never leave your home.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: I knew not until to-day of Aether Mountain. None had told me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Knew you never, lady, of love?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: None had told me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: This is your home; not Earth; no golden palace. Reign here alone, +not knowing the cares of men, without yesterday or to-morrow, untroubled +by history or council.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Yes, yes, we will return no more.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: See, lady, see the Earth. Is it not as a dream just faded?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is dim indeed, grey and dream-like.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It is the Earth we knew.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is all dream-like.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It is gone; we can dimly see it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Was it a dream?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Perhaps. It is gone now and does not matter.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Poor Earth. I hope it was real.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span> (<i>seizing her hand</i>): Oh, Zoomzoomarma, say not you hope that Earth +was real. It is gone now. See; it is so far away. Sigh not for Earth, oh +lady, sigh not for Earth.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Why not, King of Aether Mountain?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Because when you sigh for tiny things I tremble for your love. See +how faint and small it is and how far away.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: I do not sigh for Earth, King of the Mountain. I only wish it +well.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Oh, wish it not well, lady.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Let us wish the poor Earth well.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: No, lady, no. Be with me always wholly, living not partly in +dreams. There is no Earth. It is but a dream that left us. See, see +(<i>pointing down</i>) it is a dim dream.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span> (<i>looking down</i>): The people move there still. See, there is +Prince Ximenung. Something down there seems almost unlike dreams.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: No, lady, it cannot be.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: How know you, Lord of the Mountain?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It was too unreal for life. Love was not there. Surely it was a +dream.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Yes, I knew not love in the golden palace of Zoorm.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Then indeed it was unreal, Golden Lady. Forget the dream of +Earth.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: If love be real ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Can you doubt it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: No. It was a dream. Just now I dreamt it. Are dreams bad, my +Prince?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: No. They are just dreams.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: We will think of dreams no more.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: This is where love is, and here only. We should not dream too much +or think of dreams, because the place is holy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Is love here only, darling?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Here only, Golden Queen. Do any others elsewhere love as we.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: No, I think not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Then how can pure love be elsewhere?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is true.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: On this clear peak that just enters Heaven love is and only here. +The rest is dreams.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Could we awake from love and find Earth true?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: No, no, no. Sweet Lady, let not such fancies alarm you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: And yet folks wake from dreams. It would be terrible.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: No, no, there are things too real for dreams. You cannot waken +from love. Dreams are of fantastic things, things fanciful and weak, and +things confused and intricate like Earth. When you think of them in +your dreams you see their unreality. But if love were not real what +could there be to wake to.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: True. How wise you are. It was but a fancy that troubled me. +(<i>Looking down.</i>) It was one of those dreams at dawn. It is faint and +far-off now.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Will you love me for ever, Golden Queen?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: For ever. Why not? You will love me for ever?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: For ever. I cannot help it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Let us look at the dream far off, in the dimness our thoughts +have forsaken.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Aye, let us look. It was a sad dream somewhat; and yet upon this +peak where all is love all that we see seems happy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: See the dream there. Look at those. They seem to walk dreamily as +they walk in the dream.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It is because they have not love, which is only here.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Look! Look at those dreamers in the dream.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: They are running.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Oh! Look!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: They are pursued.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: The brown ones are pursuing them with spears.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It is Prince Meliflor, Prince Moomoomon, Prince Ximenung that run +in the dream. And the Prince of Huz. The brown men are close.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: The brown ones are overtaking them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, they are closer.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Look! Prince Ximenung!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, he is dead in the dream.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: The Prince of Huz?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Speared.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Still, still they are killing them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It is all the Hundred Princes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: They are killing them all.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: A sad sight once.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Once?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I should have wept once.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is so far off now.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It is so far, far off. We can only feel joy upon this holy +mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Only joy. (<i>He sighs as he looks.</i>) Look! (<i>He sighs again.</i>)</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: There falls the poor Prince Meliflor.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: How huge a thrust it was with the great spear.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: He is dead.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Are you not happy?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: In your voice there seemed to sound some far-off thing. Some +strange thing. Was it sorrow?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: No; we are too high; sorrow cannot come. No grief can touch us +here, no woe drift up to us from the woes of Earth.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: I thought there was some strange thing in your voice, like +sorrows we have dreamed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: No, Golden Queen. Those fancied sorrows of dreams cannot touch +reality.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: You will never be sorry we have woken and left the dream of +Earth?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: No, glorious lady; nothing can bring me trouble ever again.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Not even I?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Never you, my Golden Zoomzoomarma, for on this sacred peak where +there is only love you cannot.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: We will dwell here for ever in endless joy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span> (<i>looking down</i>): All dead now, all the Princes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Turn, my Prince, from the dream of Earth, lest trouble come up +from it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It cannot drift up here; yet we will turn from the dream.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Let us think of endless joy upon the edge of heaven.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, Queen; for ever in reality while all else dream away.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is the years that make them drowsy. They dream to dream the +years away. Time cannot reach so high as here, the years are far below +us.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Far below us, making a dream and troubling it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: They do not know in the dream that only love is real.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: If time could reach us here we should pass, too. Nothing is real +where time is.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: How shall we spend the calm that time does not vex, together here +for ever?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Holding your hand. (<i>She gives it.</i>) And kissing it often in the +calm of eternity. Sometimes watching, a moment, the dream go by; then +kissing your hand again all in eternity.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: And never wearying?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Not while eternity lingers here in heaven.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Thus we will live until the dream goes by and Earth has faded +under Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: And then we shall watch the calm of Eternity.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: And you will still kiss my hand at times.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Yes, while eternity wiles Heaven away.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: The silence is like music on Aether Mountain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It is because all is real. In the dream nothing was real. Music +had to be made and then soon passed trembling away. Here all things +always are as the desire of Earth, Earth's desire that groped among +fantasies finding them false.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Let us forget the dream.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span> (<i>kissing her hand</i>): I have forgotten for ever.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Ah!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: What trouble has drifted up to you from Earth?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: An old saying.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: It was said in the dream.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It was true!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>She snatches her hand away.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Ah, I remember it. It was true.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: All is unreal but love, my crownéd Zoomzoomarma. Where there was +not love it cannot have been true.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He tries to take her hand again.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Touch not my hand. It was true.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: What was the saying heard in the dream of Earth that was true?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: None is worthy to touch my hand; no, none.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: By Aether Mountain, I will kiss your hand again! What is this +saying out of a dream that dares deny reality?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is true! Oh, it is true!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Out of that hurried, aimless dream, that knows not its own end +even, you have brought me a saying and say it against love.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: I say it is true!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Nothing is true against love. Fate only is greater.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Then it is Fate.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Against Fate I will kiss your hand again.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: None are worthy. No, none.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>She draws her rapier.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I will kiss your hand again.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It must be this (<i>pointing with rapier</i>) for none are worthy.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Though it be death I kiss your hand again.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: It is certain death.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Oh, Zoomzoomarma, forget that troubled dream, and things said by +dreamers, while I kiss your hand in heaven if only once again.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: None are worthy. It is death. None are worthy. None.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: Though it be death, yet once again upon Aether Mountain in heaven +I kiss your hand.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Queen</span>: Away! It is death. Upon the word of a Queen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Zoon</span>: I kiss your h ...</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>She standing kills him kneeling. He falls off Aether Mountain, behind +it out of sight.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>As he falls he calls her name after intervals. She kneels upon the +summit and watches him falling, falling, falling.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Fainter and fainter as he falls from that tremendous height comes up +her name as he calls it.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Zoomzoomarma! Zoomzoomarma! Zoomzoomarma!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Still she is watching and he is falling still.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>At last when his cry of</i> <span class="smcap">Zoomzoomarma</span> <i>comes almost unheard to that +incredible height and then is heard no more, she turns, and with +infinite neatness picking up her skirts steps down daintily over the +snow.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>She is going Earthward as the curtain falls.</i></p> + + +<h4>CURTAIN.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHEEZO" id="CHEEZO"></a>CHEEZO</h2> + +<h3><i>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</i></h3> + +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">Sladder</span>, <i>a successful man</i>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Splurge</span>, <i>his secretary and publicity agent</i>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Rev. Charles Hippanthigh</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Butler</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ermyntrude Sladder</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Scene</span></h3> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>The big house that</i> <span class="smcap">Sladder</span> <i>has bought in the country.</i> <span class="smcap">Sladder's</span> +<i>study. Large French window opening on to a lawn.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Time: Now.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><span class="smcap">Sladder's</span> <i>daughter is seated in an armchair tapping on the arm of it a +little impatiently.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>The door opens very cautiously, and the head of</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span> <i>is put +round it.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: O, Ermyntrude. Whatever are you doing here?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: I wanted to speak to father, mother.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: But you mustn't come in here. We mustn't disturb father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: I want to speak to father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: Whatever about, Ermyntrude?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span> (<i>taps the arm of the chair</i>): O, nothing, mother. Only about +that idea of his.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: What idea, child?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O, that idea he had, that—er—I was some day to marry a +duke.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: And why shouldn't you marry a duke, child? I am sure +father would make it worth his while.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O well, I don't think I want to, mother.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: But why not, Ermyntrude?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O well, you know Mr. Jones——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: That good man!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: ——did say that dukes were no good, mother. They oppress +the poor, I think he said.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: Very true.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Well, there you are.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: Yes, yes, of course. At the same time, father had rather +set his heart on it. You wouldn't have any other reason now, child, +would you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: What more do you want, mother? Mr. Jones is a Cabinet +Minister; he must know what he's talking about.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: Yes, yes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: And I hear he's going to get a peerage.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span> (<i>with enthusiasm</i>): Well, I'm sure he deserves it. But +child, you mustn't talk to father to-day. You mustn't stay here any +longer.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: But why not, mother?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: Well, child, he's been smoking one of those big cigars +again, and he's absent-like. And he's been talking a good deal with Mr. +Splurge. It's one of his great days, I think, Ermyntrude. I feel sure it +is. One of those days that has given us all this money, and all these +fine houses, with all those little birds that his gentlemen friends +shoot. He has an idea!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O, mother, do you really think so?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: I'm sure of it, child. (<i>Looking out.</i>) There! There he +is! Walking along that path that they made. I can see he's got an idea. +How like Napoleon.<a name="FNanchor_star_1" id="FNanchor_star_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_star_1" class="fnanchor">*</a> He's walking with Mr. Splurge. They're coming in +now. Come along, Ermyntrude, we mustn't disturb him to-day. He has some +great idea, some great idea.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_star_1" id="Footnote_star_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_star_1"><span class="label">*</span></a> (N.B.—<span class="smcap">Sladder</span> <i>is not in the very least like Napoleon.</i>)</p></div> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: How splendid, mother! What do you think it is?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: Ah. I could never explain it to you, even if I knew. It is +business, child, business. It isn't everybody that can understand +business.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: I hear them coming, mother.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: There must be things we can never understand: things too +deep for us like. And business is the most wonderful of them all.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exeunt R.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sladder</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Splurge</span> <i>through the window, which opens on to +the lawn, down a step or two.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Now, Splurge, we must do some business.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Yes, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Sit down, Splurge.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Thank you, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Splurge, I am going to say to you now, what I couldn't talk +about with all those gardeners hanging about. And, by the way, Splurge, +haven't we bought rather too many gardeners?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: No, sir. The Earl of Etheldune has seven; we had to go one +better than him, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Certainly, Splurge, certainly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: So I bought ten for you, sir, to be on the safe side.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Ah, quite right, Splurge, quite right. There seemed to be +rather a lot, but that's quite right. Well, now to business.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Yes, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I told you I'd invented a new name for a food.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Yes, sir. Cheezo.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well, what have you been able to do about it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: I've had some nice little posters done, sir. I'm having it well +written up. I've got some samples here, and it looks like doing very +well indeed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Ah!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: It's a grand name, if I may say so, sir. It sounds so +classical-like with that "O" at the end; and yet anyone can see what +it's derived from, even if he's never learnt anything. It suggests +cheese to them every time.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Let's see your samples.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Well, sir, here's one. (<i>Brings paper from pocket. Reads.</i>) +"What is Cheezo? Go where you may, speak with whom you will, the same +question confronts you. Cheezo is the great new——"</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: No, Splurge. Cut that question bit. We must have no admission +on our part that there's anyone who doesn't know what Cheezo is. Cut it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: You're quite right, sir; you're quite right. That's a weak bit. +I'll cut it. (<i>He scratches it out. Reads.</i>) "Cheezo is the great new +food. It builds up body and brain."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: That's good.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: "There is a hundred times more lactic fluid in an ounce of +Cheezo than in a gallon of milk."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: What's lactic fluid, Splurge?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: I don't know, sir, but it's good stuff all right. It's the +right thing to have in it. It's a good man that I got to write this.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: All right. Go on.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: "Cheezo makes darling baby grow."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Good. Very good. Very good indeed, Splurge.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Yes, I think that catches them, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Go on.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: "Cheezo. The only food."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: "The only food"? I don't like that.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: It will go down all right, sir, so long as the posters are big +enough.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Go down all right! I wasn't fool enough to suppose that it +wouldn't go <i>down</i> all right. What are posters for if the public doesn't +believe them? Of course it will go <i>down</i> all right.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: O, I beg your pardon, sir. Then what don't you quite like about +it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I might invent another food one of these days, and then where +should we be?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: I hadn't thought of that, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Out with it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: (<i>Scratches with pencil</i>). "Cheezo is made out of the purest +milk from purest English cows."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Y-e-s, y-e-s. I don't say you're wrong. I don't say you're +exactly wrong. But in business, Splurge, you want to keep more to +generalities. Talk about the bonds that bind the Empire, talk about the +Union Jack, talk by all means about the purity of the English cow; but +definite statements you know, definite statements——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: O, yes, I know, sir; but the police never interfere with +anything one puts on a poster. It would be bad for business, a jury +would never convict, and——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I didn't say they would; but if some interfering ass were to +write to the papers to say that Cheezo wasn't made from milk, we should +have to go to the expense of buying a dozen cows, and photographing +them, and one thing and another. (<i>He gets up and goes to cupboard.</i>) +Now, look here. I quite understand what you say, purity and all that, +and a very good point too, but you look at this.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He unrolls a huge poster representing a dairymaid smirking in deadly +earnest. On it is printed: "WON'T YOU HAVE SOME?" and on another part of +the poster "CHEEZO FOR PURITY."</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">You see. Your whole point's there. We state nothing and we can make the +dairymaid as suggestive as we like.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Yes, sir, that is excellent. Quite splendid.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: They shall look at that on every road and railway, where it +enters every town in England. I'll have it on the cliffs of Dover. It +shall be the first thing they see when they come back home, and the last +thing for them to remember when they leave England. I'll have it +everywhere. I'll rub their noses in it. And then, Splurge, they'll ask +for Cheezo when they want cheese, and that will mean I shall have the +monopoly of all the cheese in the world.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: You're a great man, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I'll be a greater one, Splurge. I'm not past work yet. What +more have you got?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: I've rather a nice little poster being done, sir. A boy and a +girl looking at one another with a rather knowing look. There's a large +query mark all over the girl's dress. Then over the top in big letters +I've put: "What is the secret?" and in smaller letters: "I've got a bit +of Cheezo." It <i>makes</i> people look at it, the children's faces are so +wicked.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Good, Splurge. Very good. I'll have that one. I'll rub their +noses in that one.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Then I've got some things for the Press. (<i>Reads.</i>) "She: +'Darling.' He: 'Yes, wifey.' She: 'You won't forget, darling.' He: 'No, +wifey.' She: 'You won't forget to bring me some of that excellent +Cheezo, so nutritious, so nice for darling baby, to be had at all +grocers; but be sure that you find the name of Sladder on their +well-known pink wrappers.' He: 'Certainly, wifey.'" Just the usual +thing, sir, of course; only I have a very good little picture to go with +it, very suggestive indeed; I've made all the arrangements with the +Press and the bill-posters, sir. I think we'll make a big thing of it, +sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well, Splurge, nothing remains to be done now, except to make +the Cheezo.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: How do you think of doing it, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Do you know how they kill pigs in Chicago? No, you've not +travelled yet. Well, they get their pigs on a slide, one man cuts their +throats as fast as they go by, another shaves their bristles, and so on, +and so on; one man for each job, and all at it at once; they do it very +expeditiously. Well, there's an interfering fellow sent there by the +Government (we wouldn't stand him in England), and if a pig has a sign +of tuberculosis on him he won't let that pig go down. Now you'd think +that pig was wasted. He isn't. He goes into soap. Now, Splurge, how many +cakes of soap were used in the world last year?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span> (<i>getting up</i>): Last year? I don't think we have the figures in +for last year yet, sir.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He goes to bookshelf.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well, the year before will do.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: (<i>taking book and turning pages</i>): The figures are given, I +think, sir, from the 1st of March to the 1st of March.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: That will do.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Ah, here it is, sir. Soap statistics for the twelve months +ending 1st of March this year. A hundred and four million users, using +on an average twenty cakes each per year. Then there are partial users, +and occasional users. The total would be about twenty-one hundred +million, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Pure waste, Splurge, all pure waste.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Waste, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Pure waste. What do you suppose becomes of all that soap, all +that good fat? Proteids, I think they call 'em. And proteids are <i>good</i> +for you, Splurge.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: What <i>becomes</i> of them, sir? They're used up.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: No, Splurge. They disappear, I grant you. They float away. But +they're still there Splurge, they're still there. All that good fat is +somewhere.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: But—but, sir—but—In the drains, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: All those million of cakes of soap. There must be tons of it, +Splurge. And we'll <i>get</i> it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: You are a wonderful man, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, I've a few brains, Splurge. That anyone might have. But I +use mine, that's all. There's cleverer people than me in the world——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: No, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, yes, there are. Lots of them. But they're damned fools. And +why? 'Cause they don't use their brains. They mess about learning Greek. +Greek! Can you believe it? What good does Greek ever do them?... But the +money's not made yet, Splurge.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: I'm having it well advertised, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Not so fast. What if they won't eat it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: O, they'll eat it all right when it's advertised, sir. They eat +everything that's advertised.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: What if they can't eat it, Splurge?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Can't, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Send for my daughter.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Yes, sir. (<i>He rises and goes to the door.</i>)</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: The battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of some +damned place. A million of money will be won or lost in this house in +five minutes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: In this house, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Yes, in Ermyntrude's sitting-room. Send for her.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Miss Sladder! Miss Sladder!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span> (<i>off</i>): Yes, Mr. Splurge.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Would you come to the study, miss, Mr. Sladder wants to speak +to you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O, yes, Mr. Splurge.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: The test! The test!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">Splurge</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Miss Sladder is coming, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: The test!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: What is it, father?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: How are your white mice, child?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Quite well, father, both of them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span> (<i>draws a box from his pocket, takes out a little bit of +cheese</i>): Give them that, Ermyntrude.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: That, father. What is it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Cheese.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: May I have a bit?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: No, don't touch it!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Very well, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: If they eat it, you shall have——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: What, father?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Anything, everything. Only go and give them the cheese.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: All right, father.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>She moves to the door R., she looks round, then goes out by the French +window instead.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Why are you going that way, child?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O—er—I thought it would be nice to go round over the lawn, +father. I can get in by the drawing-room.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, very well. Be quick, dear.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: All right, father.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The magnet that has attracted</i> <span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span> <i>to the lawn now appears in +the form of</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Hippanthigh</span>, <i>passing the window on his way to the +hall-door.</i> <span class="smcap">Sladder</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Splurge</span> <i>do not see him, having their backs to +the window.</i> <span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span> <i>looks round now and then to be sure of this. +They hold hands longer than is laid down as necessary in books upon +etiquette under the head of visiting. She gives him a look of glad and +hopeful interrogation but he shakes his head solemnly, and passes +gravely on, as one whose errand is no cheerful duty. She looks after +him, then goes her way.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well, Splurge, we can only wait. (<i>With emphasis.</i>) If these +mice eat it——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Yes, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: The public will eat it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Ah!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Any other business to-day?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: O, only the cook, sir. He's complaining about the vegetables, +sir. He says he's never been anywhere before where they didn't buy them. +We get them out of the kitchen garden here, and it seems he doesn't +understand it. Says he won't serve a greengrocer, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: A kitchen garden is the wrong thing, is it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: He says so, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: But there was one here when we came.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: O, only country people, sir. I suppose they didn't know any +better.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well, where do people grow vegetables, then?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: I asked the cook that, sir, and he said they don't grow them, +they buy them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, all right, then. Let him buy them, then. We must do the +right thing.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The hall-door bell rings.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Hullo! Who's ringing my bell?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: That was the hall-door, wasn't it, sir?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Yes. What are they ringing it for?</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Butler</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Butler</span>: Mr. Hippanthigh has called to see you, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Called to see me! What about?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Butler</span>: He didn't inform me, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I say, Splurge, have I got to see him?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: I think so, sir. I think they call on one another like that in +the country.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Good lord, whatever for? (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Butler</span>.) O, yes. I'll see him, +I'll see him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Butler</span>: Very good, sir, I'll inform him so, sir.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I say, Splurge, I suppose I've got to have a butler, and all +that, eh?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: O, yes, sir. One at least. It's quite necessary.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: You—you couldn't have bought me a cheerfuller one now, could +you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: I'm afraid not, sir. If you were to take all this too +lightheartedly, the other landowners would hardly like it, you know.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, well! O, well! What kind of man is this Hippanthigh that's +coming?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: He's the man that quarrels with the bishop, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, the curate. O, yes. I've heard about him. He's been here +before, I think. Lawn tennis.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Butler</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Butler</span>: Mr. Hippanthigh, sir.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>. <i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Butler</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: How do you do, Mr. Hippanthigh? How do you do? Pleased to see +you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I wished to speak with you, Mr. Sladder, if you will permit +me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Certainly, Mr. Hippanthigh, certainly. Take a chair.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Thank you, sir. I think I would sooner stand.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Please yourself. Please yourself.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I wished to speak with you alone, sir.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Alone, eh? Alone? (<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Splurge</span>.) It's usual, eh? (<i>To</i> +<span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>.) Alone, of course, yes. You've come to call, haven't you. +(<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Splurge</span>.) Can I offer you—er, er—calling's not much in my +line, you know—but what I mean is—will you have a bottle of champagne?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Mr. Sladder, I've come to speak with you because I believe +it to be my duty to do so. I have hesitated to come, but when for +particular reasons it became most painful to me to do so, then I knew +that it was my clear duty, and I have come.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, yes, what they call a duty call. O, yes, quite so. Yes, +exactly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Mr. Sladder, many of my parishioners are acquainted with +the thing that you sell as bread. (<i>From the moment of</i> <span class="smcap">Hippanthigh's</span> +<i>entry till now</i> <span class="smcap">Sladder</span>, <i>over-cheerful and anxious, has been +struggling to do and say the right thing through all the complications +of a visit; but now that the note of Business has been sounded he +suddenly knows where he is and becomes alert and stern, and all there.</i>)</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: What? Virilo?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Yes. They pay more for it than they pay for bread, because +they've been taught somehow, poor fools, that "they must have the best." +They've been made to believe that it makes them, what they call virile, +poor fools, and they're growing ill on it. Not so ill that I can prove +anything, and the doctor daren't help me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Are you aware, Mr. Hippanthigh, that if you said in public what +you're saying to me, you would go to prison for it, unless you can run +to the very heavy fine—damages would be enormous.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I know that, Mr. Sladder, and so I have come to you as the +last hope for my people.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Are you aware, Mr. Hippanthigh, that you are making an attack +upon business? I don't say that business is as pure as a surplice. But I +do say that in business it is—as you may not understand—get on or go +under; and without my business, or the business of the next man, who is +doing his best to beat me, what would happen to trade? I don't know +what's going to happen to England if you get rid of her trade, Mr. +Hippanthigh.... Well?... When we're broke because we've been doing +business with surplices on, what are the other countries going to do, +Mr. Hippanthigh? Can you answer me that?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: No, Mr. Sladder.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Ah! So I've got the best of you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Yes, Mr. Sladder. I'm not so clever as you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Glad you admit the point. As for cleverness it isn't that I've +so much of that, but I use what I've got. Well, have you anything more +to say?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Only to appeal to you, Mr. Sladder, on behalf of these poor +people.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Why. But you admitted one must have business, and that it can't +be run like a tea-party. What more do you want?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I want you to spare them, Mr. Sladder.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Spare them? Spare them? Why, what's the matter with them? I'm +not killing them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: No, Mr. Sladder, you're not killing them. The mortality +among children's a bit on the high side, but I wouldn't say that was +entirely due to your bread. There's a good many minor ailments among the +grown-up people, it seems to attack their digestion mostly, one can't +trace each case to its source; but their health and their teeth aren't +what they were when they had the pure wheaten bread.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: But there <i>is</i> wheat in my bread, prepared by a special +process.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Ah! It's that special process that does it, I expect.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well, they needn't buy it if it isn't good.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Ah, they can't help themselves, poor fools; they've been +taught to do it from their childhood up. Virilo, Bredo and Weeto, that +are all so much better than bread, it's a choice between these three. +Bread is never advertised, or God's good wheat.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Mr. Hippanthigh, if I'm too much of a fool to sell my goods I +suffer for it; if they're such fools as to buy my Virilo, they suffer +for it—that is to say, you say they do—that is a natural law that may +be new to you. But why should I suffer more than them? Besides, if I +take my Virilo off the market just to oblige you, Mr. Hippanthigh, a +little matter of £30,000 a year——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I—er——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, don't mention it. Any little trifle to oblige! But if I did, +up would go the sales of Bredo and Weeto (which have nothing to do with +my firm), and your friends wouldn't be any better for that let me tell +you, for I happen to know how <i>they're</i> made.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I am not speaking of the wickedness of others. I come to +appeal to you, Mr. Sladder, that for nothing that <i>you</i> do, our English +race shall lose anything of its ancient strength, in its young men in +their prime, or that they should grow infirm a day sooner than God +intended, when He planned his course for man.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span> (<i>off</i>): Father! Father!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Sladder</span> <i>draws himself up, and stands erect to meet the decisive news +that he has expected.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Father! The mice have eaten the cheese.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Ah! The public will—— O! (<i>He has suddenly seen</i> +<span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>).</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span> (<i>solemnly</i>): What new wickedness is this, Mr. Sladder? +(<i>All stand silent.</i>) Good-bye, Mr. Sladder.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He goes to the door, passing</i> <span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>. <i>He looks at her and sighs +as he goes. He passes</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span> <i>near the door, and bows in +silence.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: What have you been saying to Mr. Hippanthigh, father?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Saying! He's been doing all the saying. He doesn't let you do +much saying, does Hippanthigh.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: But, father. What did he come to see you about?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: He came to call your poor old father all kinds of bad names, he +did. It seems your old father is a wicked fellow, Ermyntrude.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O, father, I'm sure he never meant it.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span> <i>goes by the window with a mournful face.</i> <span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span> <i>runs +to the window and watches him till he is out of sight. She quietly waves +her hand to</i> <span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>, <i>unseen by her father.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, he meant it all right. He meant it. I'm sorry for that +bishop of his that he quarrels with, if he lets him have it the way he +went for your poor old father. O, dear me; dear me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: I don't think he quarrels with him, father. I think he only +insists that there can be no such thing as eternal punishment. I think +that's rather nice of him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I don't care a damn about eternal punishment one way or the +other. But a man who quarrels with the head of his firm's a fool. If his +bishop's keen on hell, he should push hell for all it's worth.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Y-e-s, I suppose he should. But, father, aren't you glad +that my mice have eaten the new cheese? I thought you'd be glad, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: So I am, child. So I am. Only I don't feel quite so glad as I +thought I was going to, now. I don't know why. He seems to have stroked +me the wrong way somehow.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: You said you'd give me whatever I liked.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: And so I will, child. So I will. A motor if you like, with +chauffeur and footman complete. We can buy anything now, and I wouldn't +grudge——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: I don't want a motor, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: What would you like to have?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O, nothing, father, nothing. Only about that duke, +father——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: What duke, Ermyntrude?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Mother said you wanted me to marry a duke some day, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Well I—er—I don't think I quite want to, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Ah! Quite so. Quite so. Quite so. And who <i>did</i> you think of +marrying?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well? (<span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span> <i>is silent.</i>) When I was his age, I had to +work hard for my living.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O, father. How do you know what age he is?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, I guessed he was 82, going to be 83 next birthday. But I +daresay I know nothing of the world. I daresay I may have been wrong.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O, father, he's young.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Dear me, you don't say so. Dear me, you do surprise me. Well, +well, well, well. We do live and learn. Don't we? And what might his +name be now?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: It's Mr. Hippanthigh, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O-o-o! It's Mr. Hippanthigh, is it? O-ho, O-ho! (<i>He touches a +movable bell, shouting</i> "<span class="smcap">Splurge</span>!" <i>To his daughter or rather to +himself.</i>) We'll see Mr. Hippanthigh.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: What are you going to do, father?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: We'll see Mr. Hippanthigh. (<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Splurge</span>.) Splurge, run +after Mr. Hippanthigh and bring him back. Say I've got something to say +to him. He's gone that way. Quick!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Splurge</span>: Yes, sir. [<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I've got something to say to <i>him</i> this time.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Father! What are you going to do?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I'm going to give him What For.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: But why, father?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Because he's been giving it to your poor old father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Father——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Be kind to him, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, <i>I'll</i> be kind to him. I'll be <i>kind</i> to him. Just you wait. +I'll be <i>kind</i> to him!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: But you wouldn't send him away, father. Father, for my sake +you wouldn't do that?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, we haven't <i>come</i> to that yet.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: But, but—you've sent for him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: O, I've sent for him to give him What For. We'll come to the +rest later.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: But, when you do come to it, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Why, when we do come to it, if the young man's any good, I'll +not stand in my daughter's way——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O, thank you, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: And if he's no good (<i>firmly</i>) I'll protect my child from him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: But, father, I don't want to be protected.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: If a man's a man, he must be some good at something. Well, this +man's chosen the clergyman job. I've nothing against the job, it's well +enough paid at the top, but is this young man ever going to get there? +Is he ever going to get off the bottom rung? How long has he been a +curate?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Eight years, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: It's a long time.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: But, father, he would get a vicarage if it wasn't for the +bishop. The bishop stands in his way. It isn't nice of him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: If I'd quarrelled with the head of my firm when I was his age, +you wouldn't be getting proposals from a curate; no such luck. The +dustman would have been more in your line.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: But, father, he doesn't quarrel with the bishop. His +conscience doesn't let him believe in eternal punishment, and so he +speaks straight out. I do admire him so for it. He knows that if he was +silent he'd have had a good living long ago.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: The wife of the head of my firm believed in spirit rapping. Did +I go and tell her what an old fool she was? No, I brought her messages +from another world as regular as a postman.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Steps are heard outside the window.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Run along, my dear, now.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Very well, father.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: The man that's going to look after my daughter must be able to +look after himself. Otherwise <i>I</i> will, till a better man comes.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>. <span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Splurge</span> <i>appear at the window.</i> +<span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span> <i>enters and</i> <span class="smcap">Splurge</span> <i>moves away.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: You sent for me, Mr. Sladder?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Y-e-s—y-e-s. Take a chair. Now, Mr. Hippanthigh, I haven't +often been told off the way you told me off.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I felt it to be my duty, Mr. Sladder.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Yes, quite so. Exactly. Well, it seems I'm a thoroughly bad old +man, only fit to rob the poor, an out-and-out old ruffian.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I never said that.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: No. But you made me feel it. I never felt so bad about myself +before, not as bad as that. But you, Mr. Hippanthigh, you were the +high-falutin' angel with a new brass halo, out on its bank holiday. Now, +how would clandestine love-making strike you, Mr. Hippanthigh? Would +that be all right to your way of thinking?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Clandestine, Mr. Sladder? I hardly understand you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I understand that you have been making love to my daughter.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I admit it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well, I haven't heard you say anything about it to me before. +Did you tell her mother?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Er—no.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Perhaps you told me. Very likely I've forgotten it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: No.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well, who <i>did</i> you tell?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: We—we hadn't told anyone yet.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Well, I think clandestine's the word for it, Mr. Hippanthigh. I +haven't had time in my life to bother about the exact<a name="FNanchor_1_2" id="FNanchor_1_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_2" class="fnanchor">1</a> meanings of +words or any nonsense of that sort, but I think clandestine's about the +word for it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: It's a hard word, Mr. Sladder.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: May be. And who began using hard words? You came here and made +me out a pickpocket, just because I use a few tasty little posters which +sell my goods, and all the while you're trying on the sly to take a poor +old man's daughter away from him. Well, Mr. Hippanthigh?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I—I never looked at it in that light before, Mr. Sladder. +I never thought of it in that way. You have made me feel ashamed (<i>he +lowers his head</i>), ashamed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Aha! Aha! I thought I would. Now you know what it's like when +you make people ashamed of themselves. You don't like it when they do it +to you. Aha! (<span class="smcap">Sladder</span> <i>is immensely pleased with himself.</i>)</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Mr. Sladder, I spoke to you as my conscience demanded, and +you have shown me that I have done wrong in not speaking sooner about +our engagement. I would have spoken to you, but I could not say that and +the other thing in the same day. I meant to tell you soon;—well, I +didn't, and I know it looks bad. I've done wrong and I admit it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Aha! (<i>Still hugely pleased.</i>)</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: But, Mr. Sladder, you would not on that account perhaps +spoil your daughter's happiness, and take a terrible revenge on me. You +would not withhold your consent to our——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Wait a moment; we're coming to that. There's some bad animal +that I've heard of that lives in France, and when folks attack it it +defends itself. I've just been defending myself. I think I've shown you +that you're no brand-new extra-gilt angel on the top of a spire.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: O—I—er—never——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Quite so. Well, now we come on to the other part. Very well. +Those lords and people, they marry one another's daughters, because they +know they're all no good. They're afraid it will get out like, and +spread some of their damned mediæval ideas where they'll do harm. So +they keep it in the family like. But we people who have had the sense to +look after ourselves, we don't throw our daughters away to any young man +that can't look after himself. See?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I assure you, Mr. Sladder, I should—er——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: She's my only daughter, and if any of my grandchildren are +going to the work-house, they'll go to one where the master's salary is +high, and they'll go there as master.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I am aware, Mr. Sladder, that I have very little money; as +you would look at it, very little.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: It isn't the amount of money you've got as matters. The +question is this: are you a young man as money is any good to? If I died +and left you a million, would you know what to do with it? I've met men +what wouldn't last more than six weeks on a million. Then they'd starve +if nobody gave them another million. I'm not going to give my daughter +to one of that sort.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I was third in the classical tripos at Cambridge, Mr. +Sladder.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I don't give a damn for classics; and I don't give a damn for +Cambridge; and I don't know what a tripos is. But all I can tell you is +that if I was fool enough to waste my time with classics, third +wouldn't<a name="FNanchor_2_3" id="FNanchor_2_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_3" class="fnanchor">2</a> be good enough for me. No, Mr. Hippanthigh, you've chosen +the church as your job, and I've nothing to say against your choice; its +a free country, and I've nothing to say against your job; it's well +enough paid at the top, only you don't look like getting there. I chose +business as my job, there seemed more sense in it; but if I'd chosen the +Church, I shouldn't have stuck as a curate. No, nor a bishop either. I +wouldn't have had an archbishop ballyragging me and ordering me about. +No. I'd have got to the top, and drawn big pay, and <i>spent</i> it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: But, Mr. Sladder, I could be a vicar to-morrow if my +conscience would allow me to cease protesting against a certain point +which the bishop holds to be——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I know all about that. I don't care what it is that keeps you +on the bottom rung of the ladder. Conscience, you say. Well, it's a +different thing with every man. It's conscience with some, drink with +others, sheer stupidity with most. It's pretty crowded already, that +bottom rung, without me going and putting my daughter on it. Where do +you suppose I'd be now if I'd let my conscience get in my way? Eh?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Mr. Sladder, I cannot alter my beliefs.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Nobody asks you to. I only ask you to leave the bishop alone. +He says one thing and you preach another whenever you get half a chance; +it's enough to break up any firm.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Believing as I do that eternal punishment is incompatible +with——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Now, Mr. Hippanthigh, that's got to stop. I don't mind saying, +now that I've given you What For, that you don't seem a bad young +fellow: but my daughter's not going to marry on the bottom rung, and +there's an end of that.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: But, Mr. Sladder, can you bring yourself to believe in +anything so terrible as eternal punishment, so contrary to——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Me? No.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: Then, how can you ask me to?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: That particular belief never happened to stand between me and +the top of the tree. Many things did, but they're all down below me now, +Mr. Hippanthigh, way down there (<i>pointing</i>) where I can hardly see +them. You get off that bottom rung as I did years ago.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I cannot go back on all I've said.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I don't want to make it hard for you. Only just say you believe +in eternal punishment, and then give up talking about it. You may say it +to me if you like. We'll have one other person present so that there's +no going back on it, my daughter if you like. I'll let the bishop know, +and he won't stand in your way any longer, but at present you force his +hand. It's you or the rules of the firm.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I cannot.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: You can't just say to me and my daughter that you believe in +eternal punishment, and leave me to go over to Axminster and put it +right with the bishop?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I cannot say what I do not believe.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Think. The bishop probably doesn't believe it himself. But +you've been forcing his hand,—going out of your way to.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I cannot say it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span> (<i>rising</i>): Mr. Hippanthigh, there's two kinds of men, those +that succeed, those that don't. I know no other kind. You ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: I cannot go against my conscience.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I don't care what your reason is. You are the second kind. I am +sorry my daughter ever loved a man of that sort. I am sorry a man of +that sort ever entered my house. I was a little, dirty, ragged boy. You +make me see what I would be to-day if I had been a man of your kind. I +would be dirty and ragged still. (<i>His voice has been rising during this +speech.</i>)</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Father! What are you saying, father? I heard such loud +voices.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span> <i>stands silent and mournful.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: My child, I had foolish ideas for you once, but now I say that +you are to marry a man, not a wretched, miserable little curate, who +will be a wretched, miserable little curate all his life.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: Father, I will not hear such words.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: I've given him every chance. I've given him more than every +chance, but he prefers the bottom rung of the ladder; there we will +leave him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span>: O, father! How can you be so cruel?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: It's not my fault, and it's not the bishop's fault. It's his +own silly pig-headedness.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He goes back to his chair.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span> (<i>going up to</i> <span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>): O, Charlie, couldn't you do what +father wants?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span>: No, no, I cannot. He wants me to go back on things I've +said.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span> <i>carrying a wire cage, with two dead white mice in +it. Also</i> <span class="smcap">Splurge</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span><a name="FNanchor_3_4" id="FNanchor_3_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_4" class="fnanchor">3</a>: O, the mice have died, John. The mice have died. O, +Ermyntrude's poor mice! And father's great idea! Whatever shall we do?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Er? (<i>Almost a groan</i>) Eh? Died have they?</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Sladder</span> <i>ages in his chair. You would say he was beaten. Suddenly he +tautens up his muscles and stands up straight with shoulders back and +clenched hands.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">So they would beat Sladder, would they? They would beat Sladder. No, +that has yet to be done. We'll go on, Splurge. The public shall eat +Cheezo. It's a bit strong perhaps. We'll tone it down with bad nuts that +they use for the other cheeses. We'll advertise it, and they'll eat it. +See to it, Splurge. They don't beat Sladder.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: O, I'm so glad. I'm so glad, John.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span> (<i>suddenly with clear emphasis</i>): I THINK I <i>DO</i> BELIEVE IN +ETERNAL PUNISHMENT.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sladder</span>: Ah. At last. Well, Ermyntrude, is your cruel old parent's +blessing any use to you?</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He places one hand on her shoulder and one on</i> <span class="smcap">Hippanthigh's</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Sladder</span>: Why, Ermyntrude! Well, I never! And to think of all this +happening in one day!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Hippanthigh</span> <i>is completely beaten.</i> <span class="smcap">Ermyntrude</span> <i>is smiling at him. He +puts an arm round her shoulder in dead silence.</i></p> + +<h4>CURTAIN.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_GOOD_BARGAIN" id="A_GOOD_BARGAIN"></a>A GOOD BARGAIN</h2> + +<h3><i>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</i></h3> + +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">Brother Antoninus</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Brother Lucullus Severus</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Brother Gregorius Pedro</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Satan</span>.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Smoggs</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Scene</span></h3> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>A Crypt of a Monastery.</i> <span class="smcap">Brother Gregorius Pedro</span> <i>is seated on a stone +bench reading. Behind him is a window.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Brother Lucullus Severus</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Brother, we may doubt no longer.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Well?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: It is certain. Certain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: I too had thought so.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: It is clear now, clear as ... It is certain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Well, why not? After all, why not?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: You mean...?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: 'Tis but a miracle.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Yes, but ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: But you did not think to see one?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: No, no, not that; but Brother Antoninus ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Well, why not he? He is holy as any, fasts as often as +any, wears coarser clothing than most of us, and once scourged a woman +because she looked at our youngest—scourged her right willingly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Yet, Brother Antoninus!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Yet, why not?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: We knew him, somehow. One does not know the blessed +saints of heaven.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: No, no indeed. I never thought to see such a thing on +earth; and now, now ... you say it is certain?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Certain.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Ah, well. It seemed like it, it seemed like it for some +days. At first I thought I had looked too long through our eastern +window, I thought it was the sun that had dazzled my eyes; and then, +then it was clearly something else.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: It is certain now.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Ah, well.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span> (<i>sitting beside him, sighs</i>): I grudge him nothing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span> (<i>a little heavily</i>): No, nor I.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: You are sad, brother.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: No, not sad.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Ah, but I see it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Ah, well.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: What grieves you, brother?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: (<i>Sighs</i>) We shall water the roses no more, he and I. +We shall roll the lawns no more. We shall tend the young tulips together +never again.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Oh, why not? Why not? There is not all that +difference.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: There is.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: It is our cross, brother. We must bear it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Ah, yes. Yes, yes.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>A bell rings noisily.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: The gate bell, brother! Be of good cheer, it is the +gate bell ringing!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Why should I be of good cheer because the gate bell +rings?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Why, brother, the world is at the gate. We shall see +someone. It is an event. Someone will come and speak of the great world. +Oh, be of good cheer, be of good cheer, brother.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: I think that I am heavy at heart to-day.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">John Smoggs</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Smoggs</span>: Ullo, Governor. Is either o' yer the chief monk?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: The Reverend Abbot is not here.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Smoggs</span>: 'Ain't, ain't 'e?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: But what do you seek, friend?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Smoggs</span>: Want to know what you blokes are getting up to.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: We do not understand your angry zeal.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Tell us, friend.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Smoggs</span>: One o' yer is playing games no end, and we won't 'ave it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Games?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Smoggs</span>: Well, miracles if you like it better, and we won't 'ave it, nor +any of your 'igh church games nor devices.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: What does he say, brother?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Friend, you perplex us. We hoped you would speak to us +of the great world, its gauds, its wickedness, its——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Smoggs</span>: We won't 'ave it. We won't 'ave none of it, that's all.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Tell us, friend, tell us what you mean. Then we will +do whatever you ask. And then you shall speak to us of the world.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Smoggs</span>: There 'e is, there 'e is, the blighter. There 'e is. 'E's +coming. O Lord...!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He turns and runs. Exit.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: It's Antoninus!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Why, yes; yes, of course!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: He must have seen him over the garden wall.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: We must hush it up.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Hush it up?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: There must be no scandal in the monastery.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Brother Antoninus</span> <i>wearing a halo. He walks across and exits.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Gregorius</span> <i>is gazing with wide eyes.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: There must be no scandal in the monastery.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: It has grown indeed!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Yes, it has grown since yesterday.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: I noticed it dimly just three days ago. I noticed it +dimly. But I did not—— I could not guess ... I never dreamed that it +would come to this.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Yes, it has grown for three days.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: It was just a dim light over his head, but now...!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: It flamed up last night.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: There is no mistaking it now.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: There must be <i>no scandal</i>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: No scandal, brother?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Look how unusual it is. People will talk. You heard +what that man said. They will all talk.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span> (<i>sadly</i>): Ah, well.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: How could we face it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: It is, yes, yes,—it is unusual.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Nothing like it has happened for many centuries.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span> (<i>sadly</i>): No, no. I suppose not. Poor Antoninus.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Why could he not have waited?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Waited? What? Three—three hundred years?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: Or even five or ten. He is long past sixty.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Yes, yes, it would have been better.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: You saw how ashamed he was.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Poor Antoninus. Yes, yes. Brother, I think if we had +not been here he would have come and sat on this bench.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: I think he would. But he was ashamed to come, looking, +looking like that.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Brother, let us go. It is the hour at which he loves to +come and sit here, and read in the Little Book of Lesser Devices. Let us +go so that he may come here and be alone.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span>: As you will, brother; we must help him when we can.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>They rise and go.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gregorius Pedro</span>: Poor Antoninus.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Lucullus Severus</span> (<i>glancing</i>): I think he will come back now.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exeunt. The bare, sandaled foot of</i> <span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> <i>appears as the last +heel lifts in the other doorway.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> <i>rather timidly. He goes to bench and sits. He sighs. +He shakes his head to loosen the halo, but in vain. He sighs. Then he +opens his book and reads in silence. Silence gives way to mumbles, +mumbles to words.</i><a name="FNanchor_4_5" id="FNanchor_4_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_5" class="fnanchor">4</a></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: ... and finally beat down Satan under our feet.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Satan</span>. <i>He has the horns and long hair and beard of a he-goat. +His face and voice are such as could have been once in heaven.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> (<i>standing, lifting arm</i>): In the name of ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Banish me not.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: In the name ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Say nothing you may regret, until I have spoken.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: In the ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Hear me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Well?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: There fell with me from heaven a rare, rare spirit, the light of +whose limbs far outshone dawn and evening.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Well?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: We dwell in darkness.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: What is that to me?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: For that rare spirit I would have the gaud you wear, that +emblem, that bright ornament. In return I offer you——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Begone——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: I offer you——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Begone.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: I offer you—Youth.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: I will not traffic with you in damnation.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: I do not ask your soul, <i>only that shining gaud</i>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Such things are not for hell.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: I offer you Youth.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: I do not need it. Life is a penance and ordained as a +tribulation. I have come through by striving. Why should I care to +strive again?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span> (<i>smiles</i>): Why?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Why should I?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span> (<i>laughs, looking through window</i>): It's spring, brother, is it +not?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: A time for meditation.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span> (<i>laughs</i>): There are girls coming over the hills, brother. +Through the green leaves and the May.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> <i>draws his scourge from his robe.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Up! Let me scourge them from our holy place.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Wait, brother, they are far off yet. But you would not scourge +them, you would not scourge them, they are so ... Ah! one has torn her +dress!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Ah, let me scourge her!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: No, no, brother. See, I can see her ankle through the rent. You +would not scourge her. Your great scourge would break that little ankle.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: I will have my scourge ready, if she comes near our holy +place.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: She is with her comrades. They are maying. Seven girls. +(<span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> <i>grips his scourge.</i>) Her arms are full of may.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Speak not of such things. Speak not, I say.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Satan</span> <i>is leaning leisurely against the wall, smiling through the +window.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: How the leaves are shining. Now she is seated on the grass. They +have gathered small flowers, Antoninus, and put them in her hair, a row +of primroses.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> (<i>his eyes go for a moment on to far, far places. +Unintentionally</i>): What colour?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Black.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: No, no, no! I did not mean her hair. No, no. I meant the +flowers.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Yellow, Antoninus.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> (<i>flurried</i>): Ah, of course, yes, yes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Sixteen and seventeen and fifteen, and another of sixteen. All +young girls. The age for you, Antoninus, if I make you twenty. Just the +age for you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: You—you cannot.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: All things are possible unto me except salvation.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: How?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Give me your gaud. Then meet me at any hour between star-shining +and cock-crow under the big cherry tree, when the moon is waning.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Never.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Ah, Spring, Spring. They are dancing. Such nimble ankles.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> <i>raises his scourge.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span> (<i>more gravely</i>): Think, Antoninus, forty or fifty more Springs.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Never, never, never.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: And no more striving next time. See Antoninus, see them as they +dance, there with the may behind them under the hill.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Never! I will not look.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Ah, look at them, Antoninus. Their sweet figures. And the warm +wind blowing in Spring.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Never! My scourge is for such.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Satan</span> <i>sighs. The girls laugh from the hill.</i> <span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> <i>hears the +laughter.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>A look of fear comes over him.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Which ... (<i>a little peal of girlish laughter off</i>). Which +cherry tree did you speak of?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: This one over the window.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> (<i>with an effort</i>): It shall be held accursed. I will warn the +brethren. It shall be cut down and hewn asunder and they shall burn it +utterly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span> (<i>rather sorrowfully</i>): Ah, Antoninus.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: You shall not tempt a monk of our blessed order.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: They are coming this way, Antoninus.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: What! What!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: Have your scourge ready, Antoninus.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Perhaps, perhaps they have not merited extreme chastisement.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: They have made a garland of may, a long white garland drooped +from their little hands. Ah, if you were young, Antoninus.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>: Tempt me not, Satan. I say, tempt me not!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The girls sing</i>, <span class="smcap">Satan</span> <i>smiles, the girls sing on.</i> <span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> +<i>tip-toes to seat, back to window, and sits listening. The girls sing +on. They pass the window and shake the branch of a cherry tree. The +petals fall in sheets past the window. The girls sing on and</i> <span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> +<i>sits listening.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> (<i>hand to forehead</i>): My head aches. I think it is that +song.... Perhaps, perhaps it is the halo. Too heavy, too heavy for <i>us</i>.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Satan</span> <i>walks gently up and removes it and walks away with the gold +disc.</i> <span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> <i>sits silent.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Satan</span>: When the moon is waning.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exit. More petals fall past the window. The song rings on.</i> <span class="smcap">Antoninus</span> +<i>sits quite still, on his face a new ecstacy.</i></p> + +<h4>CURTAIN.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IF_SHAKESPEARE_LIVED_TO-DAY" id="IF_SHAKESPEARE_LIVED_TO-DAY"></a>IF SHAKESPEARE LIVED TO-DAY</h2> + +<h3><i>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</i></h3> + + +<table border="0" cellspacing="0"> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Sir Webley Woothery-Jurnip</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mr. Neeks</span></td> +<td>}<br />}</td> +<td><i>Members of the Olympus</i>.</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">Jergins</span>, <i>an old waiter</i>. +</p> +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">Mr. Trundleben</span>, <i>Secretary of the Club</i>. +</p> +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">Mr. Gleek</span>, <i>Editor of the "Banner and Evening +Gazette" and member of the Olympus</i>. +</p> + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Scene</span></h3> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>A room in the Olympus Club.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Time: After luncheon.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley Woothery-Jurnip</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Neeks</span> <i>sit by a small table. +Further away sits</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Gleek</span>, <i>the Editor of the "Banner and Evening +Gazette."</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Webley Jurnip</span> <i>rises and rings the bell by the +fire-place. He returns to his seat.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Mr. Neeks</span>: I see there's a man called Mr. William Shakespeare putting up +for the Club.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Shakespeare? Shakespeare? Shakespeare? I once knew a man +called Shaker.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: No, it's Shakespeare—Mr. William Shakespeare.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Shakespeare? Shakespeare? Do <i>you</i> know anything about him?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Well, I don't exactly recall—I made sure that you——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: The Secretary ought to be more careful. Waiter!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: Yes, Sir Webley. [<i>He comes.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Coffee, Jergins. Same as usual.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: Yes, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: And, Jergins—there's a man called Mr. William Shakespeare +putting up for the Club.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: I'm sorry to hear that, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Yes, Jergins. Well, there it is, you see; and I want you to +go up and ask Mr. Trundleben if he'd come down.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: Certainly, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: And then get my coffee.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: Yes, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He goes slowly away.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: He'll be able to tell us all about him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: At the same time he should be more careful.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: I'm afraid—I'm afraid he's getting rather, rather old.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Oh, I don't know, he was seventy only the other day. I don't +call that too old—nowadays. He can't be now, he can't be more than, let +me see, seventy-eight. Where does this Mr. Shaker live?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Shakespeare. Somewhere down in Warwickshire. A village called +Bradford, I think, is the address he gives in the Candidates' Book.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Warwickshire! I do seem to remember something about him now. +If he's the same man I certainly do. William Shakespeare, you said.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Yes, that's the name.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Well, I certainly have heard about him now you mention it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Really! And what does he do?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Do? Well, from what I heard he poaches.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Poaches!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Yes, a poacher. Trundleben deserves to get the sack for +this. A poacher from the wilds of Warwickshire. I heard all about him. +He got after the deer at Charlecote.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: A poacher!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: That's all he is, a poacher. A member of the Olympus! He'll +be dropping in here one fine day with other people's rabbits in his +pockets.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Jergins</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: Your coffee, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: My coffee. I should think so. (<i>He sips it.</i>) One needs it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: Mr. Trundleben will be down at once, Sir Webley. I telephoned +up to him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Telephoned! Telephoned! The Club's getting more full of +new-fangled devices every day. I remember the time when—— Thank you, +Jergins.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Jergins</span> <i>retires.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">This is a pretty state of things, Neeks.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: A pretty state of things indeed, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Ah, here's Trundleben.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: He'll tell us all about it, Sir Webley. I'm sure he'll——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Ah, Trundleben. Come and sit down here. Come and——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Thank you, Sir Webley. I think I will. I don't walk quite as +well as I used, and what with——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: What's all this we hear about this Mr. Shakespeare, +Trundleben?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Oh, ah, well yes, yes indeed. Well, you see, Sir Webley, he +was put up for the Club. Mr. Henry put him up.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span> (<i>disapprovingly</i>): Oh, Mr. Henry.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Yes, yes, yes. Long hair and all that.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: I'm afraid so.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Writes poetry, I believe.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: I'm afraid so.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Well then, what does Mr. Newton do but go and second him, +and there you are, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Yes, a pretty state of things. Has he ... Does he ... What +is he?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: He seems to write, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Oh, he does, does he? What does he write?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Well, I wrote and asked him that, Sir Webley, and <i>he</i> said +plays.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Plays? Plays? Plays? I'm sure I never heard ... What plays?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: I asked him that, Sir Webley, and he said ... he sent me a +list (<i>fumbling</i>). Ah, here it is.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He holds it high, far from his face, tilts his head back and looks +down his nose through his glasses.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">He says—let me see—"Hamelt," or "Hamlet," I don't know how he +pronounces it. "Hamelt, Hamlet"; he spells it "H-a-m-l-e-t." If you +pronounce it the way one pronounces handle, it would be "Hamelt," but +if——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: What's it all about?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Well, I gathered the scene was in Denmark.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Denmark! H'm! another of those neutrals!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Well, I wouldn't so much mind where the scene of the play +was put, if only it was a play one ever had heard of.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: But those men who have much to do with neutrals are rather the +men—don't you think, Sir Webley?—who ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Who want watching. I believe you're right, Neeks. And that +type of unsuccessful play-wright is just the kind of man I always +rather ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: That's rather what I feel, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: It wouldn't be a bad plan if we told somebody about him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: I think I know just the man, Sir Webley. I'll just drop him a +line.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Yes, and if he's all right there's no harm done, but I +always suspect that kind of fellow. Well, what else, Trundleben? This is +getting interesting.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Well, Sir Webley, it's really very funny, but he sent me a +list of the characters in this play of his, "Hamelt," and, and it's +really rather delicious——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Yes?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Yes? What is it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: He's got a <i>ghost</i> in his play. (<i>He-he-he-he-he</i>) A ghost! +He really has.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: What! Not on the stage?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Yes, on the stage!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Well, well, well.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: But that's absurd.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: I met Mr. Vass the other day—it was his four hundredth +presentation of "The Nighty"—and I told him about it. He said that +bringing a ghost on the stage was, of course—er—ludicrous.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: What else does he say he's done?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Er—er—there's an absurdly long list—er—"Macbeth."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: "Macbeth." That's Irish.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Ah, yes. Abbey Theatre style of thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: I think I heard he offered it them. But of course——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: No, quite so.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: I gathered it was all rather a—rather a sordid story.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span> (<i>solemnly</i>): Ah!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Neeks</span><a name="FNanchor_5_6" id="FNanchor_5_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_6" class="fnanchor">5</a> <i>with equal solemnity wags his head.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span> (<i>focussing his list again</i>): Here's a very funny one. This +is funnier than "Hamlet." "The Tempest." And the stage directions are +"The sea, with a ship."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span> (<i>laughs</i>): Oh, that's lovely! That's really too good. The +sea with a ship! And what's it all about?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Well, I rather gathered that it was about a magician, and +he—he makes a storm.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: He makes a storm. Splendid! On the stage, I suppose.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Oh yes, on the stage.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Neeks</span><a name="FNanchor_6_7" id="FNanchor_6_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_7" class="fnanchor">6</a> <i>laugh heartily.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: He'd ... He'd have to be a magician for that, wouldn't he?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Ha, ha! Very good! He'd have to be a magician to do that, +Trundleben.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Yes, indeed, Sir Webley; indeed he would, Mr. Neeks.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: But that stage direction is priceless. I'd really like to +copy that down if you'd let me. What is it? "The sea with a ship"? It's +the funniest bit of the lot.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Yes, that's it, Sir Webley. Wait a moment, I have it here. +The—the whole thing is "the sea with a ship, afterwards an island." +Very funny indeed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: "Afterwards an island"! That's very good, too. "Afterwards +an island." I'll put that down also. (<i>He writes.</i>) And what else, +Trundleben? What else?</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Trundleben</span> <i>holds out his list again.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: "The Tragedy of—of King Richard the—the Second."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: But <i>was</i> his life a tragedy? <i>Was</i> it a tragedy, Neeks?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: I—I—well I'm not quite sure; I really don't think so. But I'll +look it up.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Yes, we can look it up.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: I think it was rather—perhaps <i>rather</i> tragic, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Oh, I don't say it wasn't. No doubt. No doubt at all. That's +one thing. But to call his whole life a tragedy is—is quite another. +What, Neeks?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Oh, quite another.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Oh, certainly, Sir Webley. Tragedy is—er—is a very strong +term indeed, to—to apply to such a case.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: He was probably out poaching when he should have been +learning his history.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: And what else, eh? Anything more?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Well, there are some poems, he says.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Holds up a list.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: And what are they about?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Well, there's one called ... Oh. I'd really rather not +mention that one; perhaps that had better be left out altogether.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Not...?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Not quite...?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: No, not at all.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span> and <span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: H'm.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Left out altogether. And then there are "Sonnets," and—and +"Venus and Adonis," and—and "The Phœnix and the Turtle."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: The Phœnix and the what?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: The Turtle.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Oh. Go on ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: One called "The Passionate Pilgrim," another "A Lover's +Complaint."</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: I think the whole thing's very regrettable.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: I think so too, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span> (<i>mournfully</i>): And there've been no poets since poor +Browning died, none at all. It's absurd for him to call himself a poet.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Quite so, Trundleben, quite so.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: And all these plays. What does he mean by calling them +plays? They've never been acted.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Well—er—no, not exactly acted, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: What do you mean by not exactly, Trundleben?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Well, I believe they were acted in America, though of course +not in London.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: In America? What's that got to do with it. America? Why, +that's the other side of the Atlantic.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Oh, yes, Sir Webley, I—I quite agree with you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: America! I daresay they did. I daresay they did act them. +But that doesn't make him a suitable member for the Olympus. Quite the +contrary.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Oh, quite the contrary.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Oh, certainly, Sir Webley, certainly.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: I daresay "Macbeth" would be the sort of thing that would +appeal to Irish Americans. <i>Just</i> the sort of thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Very likely, Sir Webley, I'm sure.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Their game laws are very lax, I believe, over there; they +probably took to him on account of his being a poacher.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: I've no doubt of it, Sir Webley. Very likely.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: I expect that was just it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Well now, Trundleben; are we to ask the Olympus to elect a +man who'll come in here with his pockets bulging with rabbits.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Rabbits, and hares too.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: And venison even, if you come to that.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Yes indeed, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Thank God the Olympus can get its haunch of venison without +having to go to a man like that for it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Yes indeed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Indeed I hope so.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Well now, about those plays. I don't say we've absolute +proof that the man's entirely hopeless. We must be sure of our ground.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Yes, quite so.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Oh, I'm afraid Sir Webley, they're very bad indeed. There +are some quite unfortunate—er—references in them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: So I should have supposed. So I should have supposed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Yes, yes, of course.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: For instance, in that play about that funny ship—I have a +list of the characters here—and I'm afraid, well—er,—er you see for +yourself. (<i>Hands paper.</i>) You see that is, I am afraid, in very bad +taste, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Certainly, Trundleben, certainly. Very bad indeed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span> (<i>peering</i>): Er—er, what is it, Sir Webley?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span> (<i>pointing</i>): That, you see.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: A—a drunken butler! But most regrettable.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: A very deserving class. A—a quite gratuitous slight. I +don't say you mightn't see one drunken butler ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Quite so.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Yes, of course.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: But to put it boldly on a programme like that is practically +tantamount to implying that all butlers are drunken.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Which is by no means true.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: There would naturally be a protest of some sort, and to have +a member of the Olympus mixed up with a controversy like that would +be—er—naturally—er—most ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Yes, of course, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: And then of course, if he does a thing like that once ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: There are probably other lapses just as deplorable.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: I haven't gone through his whole list, Sir Webley. I often +feel about these modern writers that perhaps the less one looks the less +one will find that might be, er ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Yes, quite so.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: That is certainly true.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Well, we can't wade all through his list of characters to +see if they are all suitable to be represented on a stage.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Oh no, Sir Webley, quite impossible; there are—there are—I +might say—hundreds of them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Good gracious! He must have been wasting his time a great +deal.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Oh, a great deal, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: But we shall have to go further into this. We can't have ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: I see Mr. Gleek sitting over there, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Why, yes, yes, so he is.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: The <i>Banner and Evening Gazette</i> would know all about him if +there's anything to know.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Yes, of course they would.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: If we were to ask him.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Well, Trundleben, you may leave it to us. Mr. Neeks and I +will talk it all over and see what's to be done.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Thank you, Sir Webley. I'm really very sorry it all +happened—very sorry indeed.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Very well, Trundleben, we'll see what's to be done. If +nothing's known of him and his plays, you'll have to write and request +him to withdraw his candidature. But we'll see. We'll see.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>: Thank you, Sir Webley. I'm sure I'm very sorry it all +occurred. Thank you, Mr. Neeks.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Trundleben</span>, <i>waddling slowly away.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Well, Neeks, that's what it will have to be. If nothing +whatever's known of him we can't have him putting up for the Olympus.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Quite so, Sir Webley. I'll call Mr. Gleek's attention.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He begins to rise, hopefully looking Gleek-wards, when</i> <span class="smcap">Jergins</span> <i>comes +between him and</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Gleek</span>. <i>He has come to take away the coffee.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Times are changing, Jergins.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Changing fast, and new members putting up for the Club.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: Yes, I'm afraid so, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: You notice it too, Jergins.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: Yes, Sir Webley, it's come all of a sudden. Only last week I +saw ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Well, Jergins.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: I saw Lord Pondleburrow wearing a ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Wearing what, Jergins?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: Wearing one of those billycock hats, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Well, well. I suppose they've got to change, but not at that +rate.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Jergins</span>: No, Sir Webley.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Exit</span>, <i>shaking his head as he goes.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Well, we must find out about this fellow.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Yes. I'll call Mr. Gleek's attention. He knows all about that +sort of thing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Yes, yes. Just ...</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Neeks</span> <i>rises and goes some of the way towards</i> <span class="smcap">Gleek's</span> <i>chair.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Neeks</span>: Er—er——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gleek</span> (<i>looking round</i>): Yes?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Sir Webley</span>: Do you know anything of a man called Mr. William +Shakespeare?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Gleek</span> (<i>looking over his pince-nez</i>): No!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He shakes his head several times and returns to his paper.</i></p> + +<h4>CURTAIN.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FAME_AND_THE_POET" id="FAME_AND_THE_POET"></a>FAME AND THE POET</h2> + +<h3><i>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</i></h3> + +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">Harry de Reves</span>, <i>a Poet</i>.</p> +<p class="list"> +(<i>This name, though of course of French origin, has +become anglicised and is pronounced</i> <span class="smcap">de Reevs</span>.)</p> +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">Dick Prattle</span>, <i>a Lieutenant-Major of the Royal Horse +Marines</i>.</p> +<p class="list"> +<span class="smcap">Fame</span>. +</p> + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Scene</span></h3> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>The Poet's rooms in London. Windows in back. A high screen in a +corner.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>Time: February 30th.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Poet</span> <i>is sitting at a table writing.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Dick Prattle</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Hullo, Harry.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Hullo, Dick. Good Lord, where are you from?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span> (<i>casually</i>): The ends of the earth.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Well, I'm damned!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Thought I'd drop in and see how you were getting on.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Well, that's splendid. What are you doing in London?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Well, I wanted to see if I could get one or two decent ties to +wear—you can get nothing out there—then I thought I'd have a look and +see how London was getting on.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Splendid! How's everybody?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: All going strong.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: That's good.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span> (<i>seeing paper and ink</i>): But what are you doing?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Writing.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Writing? I didn't know you wrote.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Yes, I've taken to it rather.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: I say—writing's no good. What do you write?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Oh, poetry.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Poetry! Good Lord!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Yes, that sort of thing, you know.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Good Lord! Do you make any money by it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: No. Hardly any.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: I say—why don't you chuck it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Oh, I don't know. Some people seem to like my stuff, rather. +That's why I go on.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: I'd chuck it if there's no money in it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Ah, but then it's hardly in your line, is it? You'd hardly +approve of poetry if there <i>was</i> money in it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Oh, I don't say that. If I could make as much by poetry as I +can by betting I don't say I wouldn't try the poetry touch, only——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Only what?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Oh, I don't know. Only there seems more sense in betting, +somehow.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Well, yes. I suppose it's easier to tell what an earthly horse +is going to do, than to tell what Pegasus——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: What's Pegasus?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Oh, the winged horse of poets.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: I say! You don't believe in a winged horse, do you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: In our trade we believe in all fabulous things. They all +represent some large truth to us. An emblem like Pegasus is as real a +thing to a poet as a Derby winner would be to you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: I say. (Give me a cigarette. Thanks.) What? Then you'd believe +in nymphs and fauns, and Pan, and all those kind of birds?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Yes. Yes. In all of them.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Good Lord!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: You believe in the Lord Mayor of London, don't you?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Yes, of course; but what has——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Four million people or so made him Lord Mayor, didn't they? +And he represents to them the wealth and dignity and tradition of——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Yes; but, I say, what has all this——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Well, he stands for an idea to them, and they made him Lord +Mayor, and so he is one....</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Well, of course he is.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: In the same way Pan has been made what he is by millions; by +millions to whom he represents world-old traditions.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span> (<i>rising from his chair and stepping backwards, laughing and +looking at the</i> <span class="smcap">Poet</span> <i>in a kind of assumed wonder</i>): I say ... I say ... +You old heathen ... but Good Lord ...</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He bumps into the high screen behind, pushing it back a little.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Look out! Look out!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: What? What's the matter?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: The screen!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Oh, sorry, yes. I'll put it right.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He is about to go round behind it.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: No, don't go round there.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: What? Why not?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Oh, you wouldn't understand.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Wouldn't understand? Why, what have you got?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Oh, one of those things.... You wouldn't understand.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Of course I'd understand. Let's have a look.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Poet</span> <i>walks towards</i> <span class="smcap">Prattle</span> <i>and the screen. He protests no +further.</i> <span class="smcap">Prattle</span> <i>looks round the corner of the screen.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">An altar.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span> (<i>removing the screen altogether</i>): That is all. What do you +make of it?</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>An altar of Greek design, shaped like a pedestal, is revealed. Papers +litter the floor all about it.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: I say—you always were an untidy devil.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Well, what do you make of it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: It reminds me of your room at Eton.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: My room at Eton?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Yes, you always had papers all over your floor.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Oh, yes——</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: And what are these?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: All these are poems; and this is my altar to Fame.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: To Fame?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: The same that Homer knew.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Good Lord!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Keats never saw her. Shelley died too young. She came late at +the best of times, now scarcely ever.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: But, my dear fellow, you don't mean that you think there really +is such a person?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: I offer all my songs to her.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: But you don't mean you think you could actually <i>see</i> Fame?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: We poets personify abstract things, and not poets only but +sculptors<a name="FNanchor_7_8" id="FNanchor_7_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_8" class="fnanchor">7</a> and painters too. All the great things of the world are +those abstract things.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: But what I mean is, they're not really there, like you or me.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: To us these things are more real than men, they outlive +generations, they watch the passing of kingdoms: we go by them like +dust; they are still there, unmoved, unsmiling.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: But, but, you can't think that you could <i>see</i> Fame, you don't +expect to <i>see</i> it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Not to me. Never to me. She of the golden trumpet and Greek +dress will never appear to me.... We all have our dreams.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: I say—what have you been doing all day?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: I? Oh, only writing a sonnet.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Is it a long one?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Not very.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: About how long is it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: About fourteen lines.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span> (<i>impressively</i>): I tell you what it is.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Yes?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: I tell you what. You've been overworking yourself. I once got +like that on board the Sandhurst, working for the passing-out exam. I +got so bad that I could have seen anything.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Seen anything?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Lord, yes; horned pigs, snakes with wings; anything; one of +your winged horses even. They gave me some stuff called bromide for it. +You take a rest.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: But my dear fellow, you don't understand at all. I merely said +that abstract things are to a poet as near and real and visible as one +of your bookmakers or barmaids.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: I know. You take a rest.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Well, perhaps I will. I'd come with you to that musical comedy +you're going to see, only I'm a bit tired after writing this; it's a +tedious job. I'll come another night.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: How do you know I'm going to see a musical comedy?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Well, where would you go? <i>Hamlet</i>'s<a name="FNanchor_8_9" id="FNanchor_8_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_9" class="fnanchor">8</a> on at the Lord +Chamberlain's. You're not going there.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Do I look like it?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: No.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Prattle</span>: Well, you're quite right. I'm going to see "The Girl from +Bedlam." So long. I must push off now. It's getting late. You take a +rest. Don't add another line to that sonnet; fourteen's quite enough. +You take a rest. Don't have any dinner to-night, just rest. I was like +that once myself. So long.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: So long.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Prattle</span>. <span class="smcap">de Reves</span> <i>returns to his table and sits down.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Good old Dick! He's the same as ever. Lord, how time passes.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><i>He takes his pen and his sonnet and makes a few alterations.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Well, that's finished. I can't do any more to it.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He rises and goes to the screen; he draws back part of it and goes up +to the altar. He is about to place his sonnet reverently at the foot of +the altar amongst his other verses.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">No, I will not put it there. This one is worthy of the altar.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He places the sonnet upon the altar itself.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">If that sonnet does not give me fame, nothing that I have done before +will give it to me, nothing that I ever will do.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He replaces the screen and returns to his chair at the table. Twilight +is coming on. He sits with his elbow on the table, his head on his hand, +or however the actor pleases.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Well, well. Fancy seeing Dick again. Well, Dick enjoys his life, so he's +no fool. What was that he said? "There's no money in poetry. You'd +better chuck it." Ten years' work and what have I to show for it? The +admiration of men who care for poetry, and how many of <i>them</i> are there? +There's a bigger demand for smoked glasses to look at eclipses of the +sun. Why should Fame come to me? Haven't I given up my days for her? +That is enough to keep her away. I am a poet; that is enough reason for +her to slight me. Proud and aloof and cold as marble, what does Fame +care for us? Yes, Dick is right. It's a poor game chasing illusions, +hunting the intangible, pursuing dreams. Dreams? Why, we are ourselves +dreams.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He leans back in his chair.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">We are such stuff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As dreams are made on, and our little life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is rounded with a sleep.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He is silent for a while. Suddenly he lifts his head.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">My room at Eton, Dick said. An untidy mess.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>As he lifts his head and says these words, twilight gives place to +broad daylight, merely as a hint that the author of the play may have +been mistaken, and the whole thing may have been no more than a poet's +dream.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">So it was, and it's an untidy mess there (<i>looking at screen</i>) too. +Dick's right. I'll tidy it up. I'll burn the whole damned heap,</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He advances impetuously towards the screen.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">every damned poem that I was ever fool enough to waste my time on.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He pushes back the screen.</i> <span class="smcap">Fame</span> <i>in a Greek dress with a long golden +trumpet in her hand is seen standing motionless on the altar like a +marble goddess.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">So ... you have come!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>For a while he stands thunderstruck. Then he approaches the altar.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Divine fair lady, you have come.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>He holds up his hand to her and leads her down from the altar and into +the centre of the stage. At whatever moment the actor finds it most +convenient, he repossesses himself of the sonnet that he had placed on +the altar. He now offers it to</i> <span class="smcap">Fame</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">This is my sonnet. Is it well done?</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Fame</span> <i>takes it and reads it in silence, while the</i> <span class="smcap">Poet</span> <i>watches her +rapturously.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: You're a bit of all right.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: What?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: Some poet.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: I—I—scarcely ... understand.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: You're IT.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: But ... it is not possible ... are you she that knew Homer?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: Homer? Lord, yes. Blind old bat, 'e couldn't see a yard.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: O Heavens!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Fame</span> <i>walks beautifully to the window. She opens it and puts her head +out.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span> (<i>in a voice with which a woman in an upper storey would cry for +help if the house was well alight</i>): Hi! Hi! Boys! Hi! Say, folks! Hi!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>The murmur of a gathering crowd is heard.</i> <span class="smcap">Fame</span> <i>blows her trumpet.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: Hi, he's a poet! (<i>Quickly, over her shoulder.</i>) What's your name?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: De Reves.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: His name's de Reves.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Harry de Reves.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: His pals call him Harry.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">The Crowd</span>: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: Say, what's your favourite colour?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: I ... I ... I don't quite understand.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: Well, which do you like best, green or blue?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Oh—er—blue.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>She blows her trumpet out of the window.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">No—er—I think green.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: Green is his favourite colour.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">The Crowd</span>: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: 'Ere, tell us something. They want to know all about yer.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Wouldn't<a name="FNanchor_9_10" id="FNanchor_9_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_10" class="fnanchor">9</a> you perhaps ... would they care to hear my sonnet, +if you would—er ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span> (<i>picking up quill</i>): Here, what's this?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Oh, that's my pen.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span> (<i>after another blast on her trumpet</i>): He writes with a quill.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Cheers from the</i> <span class="smcap">Crowd</span>.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span> (<i>going to a cupboard</i>): Here, what have you got in here?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Oh ... er ... those are my breakfast things.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span> (<i>finding a dirty plate</i>): What have yer had on this one?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span> (<i>mournfully</i>): Oh, eggs and bacon.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span> (<i>at the window</i>): He has eggs and bacon for breakfast.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"> +<span class="smcap">The Crowd</span>: Hip hip hip, <i>hooray!</i><br /> +Hip hip hip, <i>hooray!</i><br /> +Hip hip hip, <i>hooray!</i><br /> +</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: Hi, and what's this?</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span> (<i>miserably</i>): Oh, a golf stick.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: He's a man's man! He's a virile man! He's a manly man!</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Wild cheers from the</i> <span class="smcap">Crowd</span>, <i>this time only from women's voices.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: Oh, this is terrible. This is terrible. This is terrible.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<span class="smcap">Fame</span> <i>gives another peal on her horn. She is about to speak.</i></p> + + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span> (<i>solemnly and mournfully</i>): One moment, one moment ...</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: Well, out with it.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: For ten years, divine lady, I have worshipped you, offering +all my songs ... I find ... I find I am not worthy....</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: Oh, you're all right.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: No, no, I am not worthy. It cannot be. It cannot possibly be. +Others deserve you more. I must say it! <i>I cannot possibly love you.</i> +Others are worthy. You will find others. But I, no, no, no. It cannot +be. It cannot be. Oh, pardon me, but it <i>must</i> not.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>Meanwhile</i> <span class="smcap">Fame</span> <i>has been lighting one of his cigarettes. She sits in +a comfortable chair, leans right back, and puts her feet right up on the +table amongst the poet's papers.</i></p> + +<p class="dialogue-cont">Oh, I fear I offend you. But—it cannot be.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: Oh, that's all right, old bird; no offence. I ain't going to leave +you.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">de Reves</span>: But—but—but—I do not understand.</p> + +<p class="dialogue"><span class="smcap">Fame</span>: I've come to stay, I have.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">[<i>She blows a puff of smoke through her trumpet</i>.</p> + + +<h4>CURTAIN.</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>[Transcriber's Note: Footnotes indicate where typographical errors in +the original edition have been corrected.]</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_2" id="Footnote_1_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_2"><span class="label">1</span></a> Corrected from "eaxct"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_3" id="Footnote_2_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_3"><span class="label">2</span></a> Corrected from "wouln't"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_4" id="Footnote_3_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_4"><span class="label">3</span></a> Corrected from "<span class="smcap">Mrs. Splurge</span>"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_5" id="Footnote_4_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_5"><span class="label">4</span></a> An unmatched parenthesis has been deleted</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_6" id="Footnote_5_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_6"><span class="label">5</span></a> Corrected from "Neek"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_7" id="Footnote_6_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_7"><span class="label">6</span></a> Corrected from "Neek"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_8" id="Footnote_7_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_8"><span class="label">7</span></a> Corrected from "scuptors"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_9" id="Footnote_8_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_9"><span class="label">8</span></a> Corrected from "<i>Hamlet's</i>"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_10" id="Footnote_9_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_10"><span class="label">9</span></a> Corrected from "Wouln't"</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Plays of Near & Far, by Lord Dunsany + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYS OF NEAR & FAR *** + +***** This file should be named 19393-h.htm or 19393-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/3/9/19393/ + +Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> |